YEARS  OF  DISCRETION 


'It's  going  to  be  wide  open  or  shut,"    he  continued 

(page  164) 


YEARS 
OF  DISCRETION 


BY 
FREDERIC  HATTON 

AND 

FANNY  LOCKE  HATTON 


Novelized  from  the  Play 
By  the  Authors 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
ALONZO  KIMBALL 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1913 


COPYRIGHT,  191S 
BY  DODD.  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

Published,  October,  1913 


DEDICATED  TO 
DAVID  BELASCO 

WITH  THE  SINCERE  AFFECTION 
AND  APPRECIATION 

OF 
THE  AUTHORS 


2136116 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON 1 

II     MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST 13 

III  THE  TURNING  POINT 32 

IV  THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS 43 

V     THE   NEW  MOTHER 60 

VI     UNDISCOVERED    COUNTRY 72 

VII     THE    VARIETIST 84 

VIII     HIGH  PRESSURE 94 

IX    THE  CUB  GROWLS 120 

X     THE    SHOE    PINCHES 129 

XI     SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE 143 

XII     PLAYING      GAMES 159 

XIII  A    CAVE    MAN 170 

XIV  THE  WIDOW  YIELDS 183 

XV     HALCYON  DAYS 199 

XVI     WOOING    BY    THEORY 21T 

XVII     THE  DAY  OF  DAYS 228 

XVIII     SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS 243 

XIX    CONCERNING  A  JOURNEY 254 

XX     AN  ADVANCED  EXPERIMENT 265 

XXI     THE  BRIDE  CONFESSES 279 

XXII     DEPARTING  GUESTS 293 

XXIII  THE  REAL  WOMAN 300 

XXIV  OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER 317 

XXV    PEACE  AT  LAST 330 

XXVI  FOUR     LETTERS                                                                .  337 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  It's    going   to   be   wide   open   or   shut,"   he   con- 
tinued   (page    164) Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

Things    were    starting   in    even   before    she   had 
planned    for   them 38 

"  Experience  all,  love  everybody !" 150 


"  Mother !  "  he  cried.     "  My  own  sweet  mother  has 

come    back!"        ,.      ....      .      .      .      .   328 


YEARS  OF  DISCRETION 


CHAPTER    I 

AN    APRIL    AFTEENOON 

THE  rays  of  a  lingering  afternoon  sun  shone  from 
a  clear  Hudson  rirer  sky  into  Margaret  Brinton's 
charming  sitting-room  and  filled  it  with  cheer  and 
amber  light.  The  room  was  a  delightful  one  at  any 
time,  full  of  rare  and  beautiful  things,  with  harmo- 
nious walls  and  comfortable  divans.  In  many  years 
it  had  taken  from  its  mistress  much  of  her  daintiness 
and  personality.  Opening  off  from  it  was  the  hall- 
way of  the  apartment  —  the  building  was  one  of 
those  smart  establishments  of  the  upper  Riverside 
Drive  —  and  from  this  floor  curving  stairs  ran  up 
under  a  wide  arch  to  the  second  landing  where  the 
bedrooms  were.  Halfway  up  a  quaint  bend  formed 
a  little  resting  spot  with  a  wide  and  pillowed  seat, — 
an  ideal  retreat  for  a  confidence  or  a  quiet  chat. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  living-room  rich,  dark 
portieres  dropped  discreetly  down,  veiling  a  quaint 
little  music  room  in  which  there  was  just  room 
enough  to  hold  Mrs.  Brinton's  grand  piano  and  a 
chair  or  two.  This  was  a  tiny  corner,  but  exquisite 


in  colouring  and  appointment  and  a  fitting  neighbour 
to  the  larger  room  into  which  it  opened. 

The  day  was.  one  of  those  wonderful  April  times 
when  spring  and  summer  seem  to  have  wandered 
twin-like  hand  in  hand.  Mrs.  Brinton  had  felt  all 
day  the  witchery  of  the  lazy  hours  and  despite  in- 
sistent voices  of  duty  she  had  left  undone  the  thou- 
sand things  she  should  have  done.  An  indefinite 
longing  filled  her  usually  sane  soul  with  vague  dis- 
quietude. She  was  not  quite  sure  whether  it  was 
the  spring  that  had  so  disturbed  her  usual  serenity 
or  the  unexpected  news  that  Mrs.  Farrell  Howard 
of  Brookline  was  to  arrive  at  last  for  a  visit  which 
had  been  promised  for  ten  years.  Despite  the  tele- 
grams and  an  array  of  new  trunks  which  had  al- 
ready arrived  Mrs.  Brinton  found  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  the  long-awaited  guest  was  about  to  ap- 
pear. 

The  trunks  in  themselves  had  been  enough  to  take 
Mrs.  Brinton's  breath  away.  Ellie  Howard,  as  her 
old  friend  knew  her,  was  the  quietest  and  simplest 
of  creatures.  Mrs.  Brinton  remembered  her  as  one 
of  those  modest  New  England  women  given  to  in- 
conspicuous pastel  colours  in  gowns  and  uninteresting 
bonnets  in  headgear.  Those  immense  French  ward- 
robe trunks  bewildered  the  hostess.  What  in  the 


AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON  3 

world  did  they  contain?  She  could  hardly  wait  for 
Mrs.  Howard  to  come.  Her  curiosity  grew  as  each 
moment  passed.  Surely  something  unusual  was 
afoot ! 

The  bond  between  these  two  women  was  no  usual 
one.  Their  close  friendship  had  lasted  without  a 
break  from  the  impressionable  and  impulsive  hours 
of  their  school  days.  Through  years  of  marriage 
and  widowhood  they  had  still  kept  in  touch  with  each 
other. 

Mrs.  Howard  lived  in  Brookline  just  outside  of 
Boston,  and  was  the  conventional  and  staid  New 
England  matron.  Mrs.  Brinton  moved  in  the  smart- 
est set  in  New  York  and  was  mundane  to  her  finger 
tips.  Both  women  were  widows  and  independently 
rich.  They  were  also  about  of  equal  age. 

But  Mrs.  Brinton  certainly  did  not  look  her  forty- 
eight  years  as  she  stood  waiting  for  her  guest.  The 
April  sun  fell  affectionately  on  her  brunette  head 
and  revealed  her  superbly  erect  figure,  her  fine  poise 
of  throat  and  chin  and  her  air  of  grace  and  breeding. 
Her  hair,  which  was  magnificent,  was  plaited  and 
twisted  simply  about  her  head.  Her  skin  and  eyes 
were  youthful  and  her  entire  appearance  was  that  of 
the  perfectly  gowned  and  coiffed  woman  of  the  world. 
She  fairly  radiated  an  air  of  feminine  sophistry. 


4  YEARS    OP   DISCRETION 

An  insistent  tingle  of  the  bell  interrupted  her  con- 
jectures. But  Metz,  the  butler,  did  not  announce 
Mrs.  Howard  as  he  entered.  He  came  towards  his 
mistress  with  the  faintly  apologetic  bearing  of  the 
well  trained  servant.  Mrs.  Brinton  came  towards 
him  eagerly. 

"  Is  that  Mrs.  Howard,  Metz  ?  "  she  asked. 

Metz  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  It's  Mr.  Thomas,  Madame,"  he  announced  dubi- 
ously. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  as  nearly  impatient  as  her  se- 
rene temper  permitted. 

"  Metz !  "  she  said  with  vexation.  "  How  could 
you  let  him  in.  You  know  I'm  — " 

Metz  coughed  discreetly.  "  Mr.  Thomas  would 
not  be  denied,  Madame.  He  said  it  was  most  pressing 
and  Madame  had  given  me  no  orders  to  excuse  her." 

Mrs.  Brinton  nodded,  somewhat  mollified. 
"  That's  quite  true,  Metz,  and  of  course  if  he  is  in 
the  house  and  knows  that  I  am  in,  I  shall  have  to  see 
him,  I  suppose.  Ask  him  to  come  up,  Metz." 

She  moved  to  the  window  and  sat  down  resignedly. 
Crossing  her  small,  well-shod  feet  she  awaited  the 
unexpected  caller.  She  felt  quite  annoyed.  It  was 
too  provoking  to  have  Thomas  and  his  tiresome 
theories  blunder  in  now.  She  felt  she  cculd  never 


AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON  5 

explain  him  to  Mrs.  Howard  should  the  latter  come 
before  she  could  get  rid  of  him.  There  was  one  ray 
of  hope.  She  knew  Mrs.  Howard  was  interested  in 
all  sorts  of  things  that  went  with  lectures  and  of 
these  Thomas  was  one.  She  had  asked  him  to  come 
in  some  time  and  discuss  a  programme.  She  felt 
hopefully  that  a  talk  on  some  appropriate  subject 
might  interest  Mrs.  Howard.  She  had  been  racking 
her  mind  to  think  what  would  amuse  a  serious  woman 
from  New  England.  She  felt  quite  sure  that  the 
average  whirl  of  society  would  not  divert  modest  and 
intellectual  Ellie  Howard. 

Now  that  Thomas  was  here  she  would  arrange  for 
a  literary  afternoon.  She  rose  pleasantly  enough 
to  greet  him  with  her  captivating  smile.  He  returned 
it  with  one  of  his  own  that  had  an  air  of  pleasant 
insolence  about  it.  Mrs.  Brinton  sensed  that  quickly. 
She  always  felt  that  Thomas  was  more  or  less  rude 
and  there  was  an  aggressive  conceit  about  him.  He 
was  a  well-set-up  man  of  forty-two  or  three,  a  bit 
odd  in  his  dress.  When  he  spoke  it  was  with  vigor- 
ous self-assurance,  though  his  voice  was  smooth  and 
insinuating.  Mrs.  Brinton  sat  down  and  motioned 
to  him  to  do  likewise.  She  even  offered  him  a  ciga- 
rette and  lighted  one  herself.  She  didn't  know  how 
long  she  would  have  to  wait  for  Mrs.  Howard  and  the 


6  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

cigarette  would  help  her  through  Thomas'  tedious 
utterances. 

He  appraised  her  from  head  to  foot  with  undis- 
guised admiration.  He  was  an  ardent  worshipper 
of  women  and  Mrs.  Brinton  was  charming. 

"  Evidently  you  are  not  over-j  oyed  to  see  me," 
he  said.  "  And  yet,  you  remember,  you  asked  me 
to  call  early  this  week." 

"  So  I  did,"  confessed  Mrs.  Brinton  hastily. 
"  But  to-day  I  am  fearfully  busy  and  expecting  a 
guest  from  out-of-town." 

Thomas  smiled  again.  He  was  always  finding 
footing  on  uncertain  grounds  and  he  was  never  ill 
at  ease  doing  it. 

Amos  Thomas  was  one  of  those  masculine  evils  for 
which  women's  clubs  are  more  or  less  responsible. 
Were  it  not  for  study  programmes  with  a  radical 
tendency  his  kind  would  be  forced  to  daily  labour,  a 
harsh  consummation  which  none  of  them  desires. 
Thomas  appeared  before  many  a  club  and  always 
for  a  compensation.  Women  loved  to  hear  him  tear 
society  and  property  to  pieces,  always  quite  secure 
that  nothing  ever  would  come  of  what  he  said. 

Mrs.  Brinton  regarded  him  as  something  to  amuse 
an  occasional  gathering  and  she  did  have  in  the  back 
of  her  mind  the  idea  of  another  programme.  She 


AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON  7 

would  have  been  glad  enough  to  have  seen  him  at 
another  time. 

She  had  been  presented  to  Thomas  first  at  the 
house  of  a  friend  who  had  been  studying  "  advanced  " 
literature.  This  woman  took  the  Socialist  quite 
seriously  and  chose  to  regard  him  as  another  Marx, 
a  profound  and  misunderstood  thinker.  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton  knew  much  better;  she  was  sure  Thomas  was  a 
fraud ;  but  to  her  frauds  were  diverting  and  she  loved 
anything  which  would  make  lecture  programmes 
amusing. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten  what  you  wanted  to  say 
to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  merrily.  "  What  an 
opinion  you  must  have  of  me,"  she  returned.  "  I 
know  I'm  a  trifler,  but  I  do  remember  some 
things.  Of  course  I  know.  Our  woman's  club 
means  to  devote  some  of  its  time  this  spring  to  social 
study  and  wants  you  to  give  it  three  lectures.  They 
were  desperate  at  the  last  board  meeting.  Nobody 
had  an  idea  for  the  spring  course.  In  a  weak  mo- 
ment I  consented  to  be  the  chairman  of  the  study 
committee  and  in  a  weaker  moment  I  suggested  you. 
You  are  the  only  parlour  Socialist  I  know." 

Thomas  leaned  forward.  "  I  believe  they  think  I 
will  say  something  shocking,  and  perhaps  I  might. 


8  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

I  never  talked  to  a  woman's  club,  and  I  don't  know 
its  limitations." 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  again.  "  You  would  find  it 
difficult  to  shock  our  woman's  club.  It's  quite  ad- 
vanced and  besides,  I  shouldn't  care  if  you  did.  Just 
talk  to  them  about  something  they  can't  understand. 
Most  of  them  know  as  much  about  Sociology  as  they 
do  about  balancing  their  bank  books,  a  hateful  knack 
I  never  could  grasp.  While  you  are  here  I  would  like 
to  arrange  to  have  you  one  afternoon  myself.  Mrs. 
Howard,  who  is  coming  to  visit  me,  is  very  intellectual 
and  quite  advanced  in  all  club  work,  and  I  really  be- 
lieve one  of  your  literary  talks  would  amuse  her.  On 
an  unusual  subject  —  say  Sociology,  or  some  stupid 
thing  like  that  —  you  know  what  is  fitting,  I'm  sure." 

Mr.  Thomas  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  he 
said  slowly,  "  Now  and  then  I  make  grave  mistakes. 
Last  week  I  gave  a  talk  to  the  Rosebud  Club,  a 
debutante  organisation,  and  I  really  did  put  my  foot 
into  it.  I  gave  the  pretty  dears  bombs!  And  they 
only  wanted  bonbons." 

Mrs.  Brinton  held  up  her  hand  in  mock  horror. 
"  I  heard  about  that  lecture,  you  naughty  man,"  she 
said,  "  And,  of  course,  you  mustn't  do  anything  like 
that  here."  She  looked  at  him  in  mild  reproof. 
"  Just  be  amusing  and  startling,  but  not  naughty. 


AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON  9 

I'm  sure  you  know  a  lot  of  subjects.  Anything  but 
race  suicide.  I  am  so  tired  of  that." 

Mr.  Thomas'  expressive  face  relaxed  into  a  smile 
of  utter  simplicity ;  which  meant,  in  his  case,  that  he 
was  about  to  say  something  very  sophisticated.  "  Do 
you  think  Mrs.  Howard  and  your  friends  would  care 
for  a  talk  on  *  The  Infinite  Varieties  of  Love  '  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  outright.  "  Oh,  no,  no,  you 
wicked  man.  Of  course,  not !  I  want  to  have  a  suc- 
cessful literary  afternoon.  I  thought  I  would  ask 
about  fifty  women,  have  some  queer  playing,  odd 
singing,  and — " 

Thomas  interrupted  her.  "Me!  Eh?  I'm  flat- 
tered. Well,  I'm  sorry  you  won't  have  that  subject, 
for  I  have  made  rather  a  personal  study  of  it.  It 
has  a  wide  scope,  and  from  my  own  experiences 
I  have  kept  notes  —  from  time  to  time,  as  I 
could." 

Mrs.  Brinton  rose  suddenly.  There  were  moments 
when  she  felt  that  Amos  Thomas  presumed  on  her 
good  nature,  and  trod  so  near  to  an  insolent  intimacy 
of  dialogue  as  he  dared.  She  also  remembered,  all  at 
once,  that  Mrs.  Howard  would  arrive  at  any  moment 
and  she  did  not  want  her  to  find  so  undesirable  a  guest 
having  a  tete-a-tete  with  her.  She  put  out  her  hand 
to  dismiss  him  with  dignity,  which  seemed  to  amuse 


10  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

him,  for  he  ignored  her  and  stood  with  his  arms 
folded,  waiting. 

"  We  will  have  to  discuss  it  some  other  day,"  Mrs. 
Brinton  said,  coldly.  *'  I  haven't  time  now  and  I 
am  expecting  my  guest  any  moment."  The  words 
had  hardly  passed  her  lips  when  the  bell  rang  and 
Metz  came  into  the  hallway.  She  looked  at  Thomas 
in  despair.  "  Please  go,"  she  urged,  "  I  shall  be 
much  engaged  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon." 

Thomas  shook  his  head.  "  You  evidently  think 
time  is  nothing  to  me.  My  dear  lady,  there's  the 
whole  world  to  convince  yet,  let  alone  a  few  women. 
Five  minutes  more  will  settle  it,  and  I  am  not  sure 
when  I  can  come  again.  Can't  you  give  me  a  word 
or  two  while  the  lady  removes  her  bonnet  and  powders 
her  nose?  I  am  quite  sure  she  will  want  to  do  both. 
I'll  go  into  the  little  music  room  and  read  my  Daily 
Socialist,  and  you  can  call  me  when  you  have  a 
moment." 

Mrs.  Brinton  motioned  him  aside  breathlessly  as 
she  heard  Mrs.  Howard's  voice  in  the  hall. 

"  Do,  do  go,"  she  murmured,  as  he  strolled  toward 
the  music  room.  Thomas  finally  disappeared  and 
she  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  Truly  he  was  almost  too 
persistent,  but  just  then  Mrs.  Howard  appeared  and 
she  rushed  over  to  embrace  her.  Thomas  and  his 


AN  APRIL  AFTERNOON  11 

insolence  were  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  seeing  her  old 
friend.  As  the  two  women  stood  together,  they 
looked  as  if  they  were  beings  from  different  worlds. 
Mrs.  Howard,  although  an  undeniably  handsome 
woman  of  clear  complexion  and  expressive,  long- 
lashed,  grey  eyes,  was  frumpishly  dressed  in  a  badly- 
fitted  tailor  suit  of  an  indefinite  prune  colour,  and  she 
not  only  wore  an  elderly  bonnet  on  her  smoothly- 
parted  hair,  but  she  carried  an  umbrella  and  a  large 
hand-bag.  Even  her  shoes  were  broad  and  low 
heeled  and  her  soft  greyish  hair  was  pulled  so  tightly 
back  behind  her  ears  that  one  felt  it  must  be  uncom- 
fortable. Only  her  enthusiasm  and  her  animated 
speech  would  convince  one  of  the  fact  that  she  was  a 
contemporary  of  Mrs.  Brinton's.  When  she  spoke 
or  smiled  one  recognised  her  fascination,  for  her 
voice  was  exquisitely  modulated  and  she  used  her 
small,  well-shaped  hands  with  much  freedom  and 
grace.  She  was  a  sad  example  of  an  attractive, 
good-looking  woman  whose  natural  charms  were  quite 
concealed  by  her  unfortunate  mode  of  dressing. 

Mrs.  Brinton's  frock,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the 
very  last  word  in  modish  gowns.  It  was  a  beautifully 
wrought  garment  of  black  and  white,  which  clung 
closely  to  her  slender  figure  and  showed  by  its  dar- 
ing drapery  every  line  and  curve  of  her  graceful 


12  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

body,  as  she  had  already  dressed  for  dinner.  Her 
slippers  were  high  heeled  and  finished  with  jewelled 
buckles,  an  ornament  of  diamonds  fastened  the 
aigrette  in  her  dark  hair,  and  her  beautifully  tinted 
cheek  was  as  clear  and  soft  as  a  girl's.  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton's  charm  was  one  of  art ;  but  it  was  art  at  its  per- 
fection, and  Mrs.  Howard,  who  hadn't  seen  her  for  a 
year,  gazed  at  her  in  undisguised  admiration. 


CHAPTER    II 

MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST 

IF  Mrs.  Brinton,  in  her  joy  and  pleasure  over  seeing 
her  old  friend  from  Brookline,  had  forgotten  Amos 
Thomas  and  his  lectures,  the  Socialist  was  not  so 
absorbed.  The  little  book  he  had  picked  up  to  take 
with  him  into  the  music  room  was  a  beautifully  bound 
volume  of  Ruskin's  "  Sesame  and  Lilies."  Thomas 
regarded  it  as  a  reactionary  remnant  of  a  well-lost 
period  and  tossed  it  contemptuously  to  the  top  of  the 
piano.  He  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  playing 
the  eavesdropper,  but  he  could  not  escape  the  crisp, 
clear,  attractive  tones  of  the  visitor's  voice,  and  as 
she  went  on  explaining  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Brinton  he 
became  fascinated  and  was  almost  tempted  to  walk 
out  and  insist  on  an  introduction.  But  for  once  in 
his  life  he  did  not  act  on  impulse.  He  listened 
breathlessly  and  shamelessly. 

The  meeting  between  the  two  women  had  been  a 
mutually  happy  one.  They  embraced  repeatedly  and 
went  through  those  feminine  half  sentences  that  are 
tinged  more  with  emotion  than  meaning  intelligible 
to  another. 

13 


1*  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Ellie,  you  blessed  soul,  I  am  glad  to  see  you !  " 
Mrs.  Brinton  finally  exclaimed,  releasing  her  friend. 
"  How  splendid  of  you  to  come.  Aren't  you  tired, 
dear?  " 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed  delightfully.  "  Not  I,  I 
never  felt  better  in  my  life  nor  more  delighted  to  see 
you.  How  well  you  look,  Peg." 

Mrs.  Brinton  tucked  an  arm  about  Mrs.  Howard 
and  led  her  over  to  the  sofa.  "  Sit  down  and  let  me 
have  a  look  at  you.  You  haven't  changed  a  scrap 
and  it's  a  year  since  I  was  in  Brookline." 

Mrs.  Howard  untied  her  bonnet  and  threw  it  on 
the  chair  near  her  as  she  answered,  "  I  can't  see 
why  I  do  look  the  same,  for  I  am  quite  done  over 
inside."  She  ruffled  her  soft  hair  with  a  little  pat  of 
her  hand  and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Brinton  with  the  air 
of  a  child  who  possesses  a  secret  and  longs  to  tell 
it. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  filled  with  curiosity.  Her  friend 
seemed  quite  changed,  somehow,  and  she  felt  sure  she 
was  going  to  hear  the  reason.  She  helped  Mrs. 
Howard  off  with  her  coat  and  gazed  in  amazement 
at  her  black  silk  blouse.  It  was  something  she  had 
forgotten  existed. 

"  What  on  earth  brought  you  to  New  York  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I  am  consumed  with  curiosity.  Has  any- 


MRS.   BRINTON'S  GUEST  15 

thing  happened  to  Farrell?  Do  tell  me!"  she 
begged. 

Mrs.  Howard  shook  her  head.  "  Farrell  is  shoot- 
ing for  two  days.  And  I  ran  away.  I  couldn't  have 
flown  more  rapidly  if  he  had  been  a  brutal,  dissolute 
husband,  instead  of  a  model  son.  Peg,  I  do  wish 
Farrell  would  fall  by  the  wayside  once  in  a  while. 
I  have  never  even  had  an  opportunity  to  sit  up  for 
him.  He's  always  in  before  I  am.  Farrell  is  twenty- 
four,  and  I  do  not  believe  any  woman  has  ever  had 
one  passing  thought  over  him.  And  yet  he  is  young, 
and  quite  nice-looking.  Of  course,  he  isn't  human, 
he's  only  rich!  I  often  wonder  where  my  blood,  in 
Farrell,  finds  a  spot  warm  enough  to  course  through." 
She  took  absolute  joy  in  Mrs.  Brinton's  impatience 
and  purposely  delayed  telling  her. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  it  all  means.  I  perish  of  im- 
patience." Mrs.  Brinton  grew  pathetic.  "  Don't 
tease  me." 

Mrs.  Howard  leaned  over  and  patted  her  friend's 
arm  gently.  "  Prepare  to  be  surprised,  Peg.  I'm 
having  a  kind  of  revolution,  and  you  are  getting  a 
private  view." 

Mrs.  Brinton  nodded.  "Do  you  mean  suffrage? 
I've  always  wondered  if  you  would." 

Mrs.  Howard  shook  her  head.     "  No,  dear,  I  am 


16  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

not  going  in  for  women's  rights.  It  is  something 
much  more  feminine  —  diversion !  Perhaps  I  might 
call  this  a  domestic  revolution,  but  even  that  doesn't 
half  express  it.  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  ever  be  quiet 
and  respectable  again.  I  am  tired  of  being  a  frump, 
a  kind,  good,  unselfish  doormat  for  Brookline  and 
Farrell  to  step  over  coming  into  the  house.  It's  a 
dull,  uneventful  life,  and  I've  run  away  from  it.  Of 
course,  this  has  been  gathering  in  me  for  years. 
Finally,  even  I  couldn't  stem  the  tide.  Of  course, 
it  is  funny,  but  it's  also  rather  tragic.  When  father 
was  alive  I  breakfasted  by  candle  light  with  him, 
then  gas  light  with  Farrell,  and  now  electric  light 
with  my  son.  And  I  hate  to  get  up.  I  love  to  loaf 
and  loll  and  dawdle.  Lying  in  bed  of  a  morning  was 
never  one  of  the  things  I  blamed  the  Pompadour  for, 
Peg.  I  am  considered  a  fine  housekeeper,  but  I  do 
hate  detail  and  I  want  to  be  quite  idle.  Really,  I  do. 
I  am  called  an  exemplary  mother,  but  I'm  not.  It's 
a  fearful  admission,  but  Farrell  bores  me  every  day 
of  his  life,  and  what  is  worse,  his  father  did  before 
him.  All  the  Howards  bore  me.  And  so  does 
Brookline,  and  all  its  inhabitants.  When  I  was 
young  I  was  very  fond  of  Farrell  and  I  am  fond  of 
his  son.  But  it's  tiresome  living  with  him,  and  I 
ran  away.  Everything  about  our  house  is  poky  and 


MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST  17 

New  England,  and  I  detest  New  England,  beginning 
with  its  mince  pies  and  ending  with  its  Pilgrim 
Fathers ! " 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  immoderately.  "  That  I 
should  live  to  hear  it !  And  after  all  these  years ! 
You  know  how  often  I  have  begged  you  to  leave 
Farrell  to  amuse  himself  in  his  own  dull  way  and 
try  the  continent  with  me." 

Mrs.  Howard  nodded.  "  You  were  always  my  sal- 
vation, Peg,  because  you  were  so  understanding. 
That's  why  I've  come  now.  As  for  Farrell,  he's  a 
sort  of  spinster  bachelor.  That's  a  new  animal,  but 
I  have  an  excellent  specimen,  my  dear,  and  a  spinster 
bachelor  with  means  and  morals  is  quite  above  sex. 
You  know  you  once  told  me  the  name  of  your  dress- 
maker? "  Mrs.  Brinton  smiled.  "  Celeste,"  she  said, 
"  I  have  begged  you  for  years  to  buy  yourself  some 
pretty  gowns,  but  you  wouldn't." 

Mrs.  Howard's  smile  was  baffling.  "  But  I  have. 
Celeste  had  an  exhibit  of  models  in  Boston  and  I 
bought  most  of  them.  From  now  on  I  am  going  to 
live  and  dress  to  please  myself  and  spend  quantities 
of  money  doing  both.  I  have  even  engaged  a  French 
maid."  With  this  final  shot,  she  leaned  back  as  Metz 
brought  in  the  tea  tray  and  placed  it  before  Mrs. 
Brinton. 


18  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Ellie,  you  are  wonderful,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton, hardly  believing  it  all.  "  I  adore  you.  Do  go 
on.  I  pray  a  kind  fate  that  I  may  be  by  when  first 
Farrell  hears  this.  I  hope  you  brought  all  the  gowns 
with  you.  That  explains  the  army  of  trunks.  I  am 
sure  I  shall  die  of  sheer  envy.  It  must  have  cost  you 
a  pretty  penny."  She  handed  Mrs.  Howard  her  tea. 

Mrs.  Howard  sipped  in  silence  for  a  moment  and 
then  said,  "  It  cost  an  appalling  sum.  But  I  don't 
care  a  rap.  Do  you  realise  that  I've  never  done  yet 
as  I  liked  in  my  whole  life?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed.  "  Poor  you !  Do  have  a 
muffin,  Ellie." 

"  You're  a  pampered  cat,  Peg,"  returned  Mrs. 
Howard  quickly,  "  and  you  know  nothing  about  duty. 
My  life  has  been  one  long  bore !  Duty !  I  hate  the 
very  word ! " 

Mrs.  Brinton  put  down  her  tea  cup  in  amazement. 
She  hardly  knew  her  old  friend  of  high  ideals  and 
New  England  conscience.  She  was  shocked  for  a 
moment.  "  Ellie,"  she  expostulated.  "  And  you  the 
president  of  the  Domestic  Arts  Club ! " 

Mrs.  Howard  moved  her  teaspoon  in  derision. 
"  My  dear,  that's  not  half.  I'm  head  of  a  mothers' 
bureau,  a  home  science  organisation  and  a  dozen 
other  hygienic,  philanthropic  or  reform  affairs.  And 


MRS.   BRINTON'S  GUEST  19 

truly,  I  despise  reform.  I  wouldn't  help  reform  a 
white  rabbit  in  my  present  humour  and  heaven  knows 
they  need  reformation.  I  am  done  with  it,  I  tell 
you!  I  won't  be  bored  one  hour  more.  Farrell  is 
exactly  like  his  father,  even  to  the  way  he  says  the 
'  o  '  in  Boston.  And  he  is  just  as  shriekingly  dull. 
I'm  through  with  it,  I  tell  you!  I  won't  be  a  good 
mother  any  longer,  nor  a  fine  housekeeper,  either.  I 
won't  knit  or  darn  another  hour.  There  you  are, 
Peg !  "  She  waved  her  hands  gaily.  "  You  see,  I  am 
quite  abandoned." 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  convulsively.  "  Ellie, 
Ellie !  "  she  gasped.  "  That  I  should  live  to  hear  it 
and  after  all  these  years.  I  believe  you  are  going 
to  be  married — " 

"  Heavens,  no ! "  exclaimed  the  rebellious  widow. 
"  I  am  going  to  be  happy.  I  am  a  quiet,  ordinary- 
looking,  indifferently-dressed  woman  of  forty-eight. 
I  intend  to  look  forty.  I  have  never  attracted  men, 
but  I  know  I  can.  I  shall  be  daring  and  wicked  and 
fascinating.  I  shall  show  my  feet,  which  are  irre- 
proachable, and  my  shoulders,  which  no  one  ever 
sees,  but  which  are  well  worth  looking  at.  I  shall 
wave  my  hair  and  tint  my  lips,  make  nice,  cunning 
eyebrows,  and  be  massaged.  I  mean,  Peg,  to  live 
just  as  I  like  from  this  moment,  no  matter  what 


20  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

anyone  says  or  thinks,  and  to  have  all  sorts  and  kinds 
of  experiences.  I  intend  to  love  and  be  loved,  to 
hate,  to  lie  and  cheat  and  perhaps  even  play  games. 
I  may  shock  you,  Margaret,  and  that  wouldn't  be 
easy,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shouldn't  care  if  I  did.  And 
my  clothes  are  really  wonderful!  Wait  till  you  see 
them!  I  have  sixteen  gowns,  hats  to  match,  and 
slippers  and  all  sorts  of  grandeur.  Look  at  me  hard, 
Peg,  it's  my  last  appearance  as  a  middle-aged  dowdy." 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  filled  with  undisguised  amaze- 
ment. She  felt  grateful  to  Mrs.  Howard  for  that. 
Life  was  often  monotonous  and  here  was  novelty. 
"  Ellie,  there  is  no  one  like  you,"  she  said.  "  Who 
else  would  dare?  And  the  perfect  thing  is  that  you 
undoubtedly  will  do  it.  That's  what  I  adore." 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed  merrily,  her  charming  face 
aglow  with  excitement.  "  I  am  beginning  to-day," 
she  continued,  "  but  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  burst  upon 
you  robed  and  decked  like  Sheba's  queen  without  a 
friendly  warning.  By  six  o'clock  I  mean  to  forget 
I  ever  crocheted  a  baby  blanket  or  wore  a  bonnet." 
She  took  off  her  glasses. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton  with  much  empha- 
sis, "  your  hour  has  arrived.  When  your  wire  came 
I  telephoned  three  of  the  most  agreeable  men  I  know 
to  keep  the  evening  for  me.  And  I  thought  we  would 


MRS.   BRINTON'S  GUEST  21 

dine  at  Sherry's  and  do  a  play.  They  are  coming  in 
here  first  for  a  cocktail.  One  of  them  is  without 
doubt  the  most  fascinating  male  creature  alive, 
Christopher  Dallas." 

"Philadelphia?"  Mrs.  Howard  inquired. 

Mrs.  Brinton  went  on.  "With  a  lot  of  Virginia 
stirred  in.  He  has  been  to  every  place  in  this  world. 
One  would  not  be  surprised  to  turn  a  corner  in  Paris, 
Algiers,  Pekin,  London,  Bombay,  or  Cairo,  and  run 
across  Christopher  Dallas.  Like  the  devil  in  the 
Book  of  Job,  he  is  always  just  back  from  going  up 
and  down  in  the  earth." 

Mrs.  Howard  smiled  her  anticipation.  "  And  I 
suppose  like  the  devil,  stirring  up  mischief.  Deli- 
cious possibility.  And  the  other  two?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  remember  John  Strong  —  my  John  Strong, 
Ellie,"  Mrs.  Brinton  explained,  "  and  Michael  Doyle, 
our  great  political  giant.  Once  a  bar-tender  I  am 
told,  but  always  a  delight.  And  all  unmarried. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  I  must  have  been  in- 
spired when  I  asked  them." 

Mrs.  Howard  rose  hastily  and  gathered  her  be- 
longings together.  "  I  am  going  to  freshen  up  a  bit," 
she  announced,  "  and  put  on  my  war  paint,  for  it  is 
getting  late.  My  train  got  in  hours  ago,  but  this 
new  maid,  Anna,"  she  pronounced  the  name  with  a 


22  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

faint  suspicion  of  an  "  r  "  on  the  end  of  it,  "  insisted 
upon  my  laying  in  a  stock  of  false  hair,  and  it  took 
ages  to  match  it  up.  I  suppose  I  have  the  same 
room."  She  started  toward  the  stairway,  followed 
by  Mrs.  Brinton,  whose  gaze  fell  on  the  music  room 
just  as  Amos  Thomas  parted  the  curtain  an  inch 
or  two. 

Mrs.  Brinton  paused  as  the  curtain  was  hastily 
dropped,  but  she  remembered  the  Socialist  suddenly 
and  her  heart  failed  her.  He  had  surely  heard  every 
word,  for  the  music  room  had  no  door. 

She  thought  hastily  and  then  she  said  to  her  re- 
treating guest,  "  Yes,  dear,  and  do  hurry.  I'll  follow 
you  in  a  moment,  I  have  to  see  to  something." 

Mrs.  Howard,  engrossed  in  the  novelty  of  making 
herself  over,  hurried  up  the  stairs,  displaying  a  gen- 
erous glimpse  of  white  clad  ankle  which  made  Mrs. 
Brinton  shudder.  The  latter  walked  over  and  threw 
open  the  curtain  of  the  music  room  and  faced  Mr. 
Thomas,  who  was  filled  with  repressed  excitement. 
He  came  out  and  walked  up  and  down  restlessly. 
Mrs.  Brinton  watched  him. 

Finally  he  turned  and  demanded,  "  Is  the  owner 
of  that  caressing  voice  Mrs.  Farrell  Howard?  I  have 
been  the  most  willing  eavesdropper.  What  a  woman ! 
And  what  a  superb  self  confidence!  She  has  filled 


MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST  23 

me  with  a  pulsating  ardour.  I  am  on  fire  to  meet 
her." 

"  Did  you  see  her?  "  Mrs.  Brinton  asked  faintly. 

"  Of  course  not,"  returned  Thomas,  "  I  am  not  so 
ill-mannered.  But  I  couldn't  help  hearing,  because 
you  have  no  door  to  that  room  and  your  friend's  de- 
lightful voice  pronounced  each  dear  syllable  so  clearly, 
that  without  trying  I  could  drink  her  words  in  one 
by  one.  Such  a  nature!  And  how  she  must  have 
suffered ! " 

Mrs.  Brinton  smiled  quietly.  "  '  Suffered  '  isn't 
just  the  word  I  would  use.  She  has  millions." 

Thomas  paused  to  regard  her  gravely.  "  But  I 
am  sure  she  counts  it  as  mere  dross.  What  ideals  she 
has,  what  longings !  It  is  wonderful !  A  mature 
soul  with  a  craving  for  love  and  liberty.  I  could 
devote  my  life  to  such  a  woman.  Will  you  not,  out 
of  the  goodness  of  your  heart,  allow  me  to  remain 
here  until  she  comes  back  again?  After  she  has,  as 
she  so  delightfully  expresses  it,  put  on  her  war  paint  ? 
I  promise  not  to  stay  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Truly, 
I  could  not  sleep  if  I  did  not  see  her.  She  has  roused 
me!" 

Mrs.  Brinton  looked  at  him  with  a  twinkle  of 
amusement  in  her  expressive  eyes.  Amos  Thomas 
as  an  admirer  was  a  new  role.  To  present  him  to 


24,  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Ellie  Howard  for  a  first  plunge  into  the  sea  of  flirta- 
tion promised  to  be  a  very  unusual  diversion.  So 
much  so  that  she  suddenly  made  up  her  mind  to  ac- 
complish it. 

"  Mind,  now,"  she  warned,  "  you  can  see  her  only 
for  a  few  moments  and  I  am  not  sure  she  will  come, 
but  I  will  try." 

Thomas  looked  eagerly  at  the  stairway.  "  Shall  I 
wait  here,"  he  said,  "  or  go  into  the  little  music  room 
again  and  wait  until  you  call  me?  I  haven't  read 
my  Daily  Socialist." 

Mrs.  Brinton  paused  before  mounting  the  stairs. 
"  Yes,  do  wait  in  there  and  think  over  the  lecture, 
unless  lectures  are  beyond  you  at  such  a  moment. 
Male  atoms  are  usually  weak  things  when  they  fall 
under  the  spell  of  the  love  force." 

But  he  would  not  jest.  He  really  seemed  to  have 
put  aside  his  artificial  and  insinuating  manner  for  a 
very  serious  humour,  which  diverted  Mrs.  Brinton 
immensely.  She  went  up  the  steps  slowly,  while  he 
Went  back  to  the  music  room.  She  knocked  at  Mrs. 
Howard's  door  without  really  knowing  what  she 
would  tell  her.  The  door  was  opened  by  the  new 
maid,  a  trim,  pretty,  young  person  dressed  in  a  grey 
gown  with  lace  cap  and  apron.  Mrs.  Brinton  looked 
at  her  in  open-eyed  amazement.  Ellie,  with  a  sou- 


MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST  25 

brette  maid  in  bows  and  streamers,  Ellie,  of  all 
women!  Mrs.  Brinton  had  always  pictured  her 
cared  for  by  a  mature  Scotch  or  English  woman  in 
alpaca  with  a  black  silk  apron.  Beyond  Anna  was 
the  widow  trying  on  some  pink  satin  slippers.  She 
already  was  a  new  Ellie  Howard,  indeed,  but  a  won- 
derful one!  Mrs.  Brinton  sat  down  abruptly  and 
tried  to  gain  her  mental  balance.  Mrs.  Howard,  on 
a  low  chair  in  a  ravishing  lace  garment,  which  might 
be  vaguely  described  as  a  negligee,  was  bending 
over  her  slipper,  with  her  hair  in  a  state  of  frightful 
disorder.  The  resourceful  Anna  had  pinned  a  quan- 
tity of  false,  blonde  curls  deftly  on  her  head.  A 
soft,  but  equally  false  wave,  rippled  across  her  brow, 
and  her  face,  radiant  with  excitement,  looked  like  a 
girl's.  As  she  struggled  with  her  slipper,  the  foamy 
lace  which  served  as  sleeves  for  the  present  covering, 
fell  back  and  showed  her  round  white  arms.  One 
pretty  shoulder  was  plainly  visible  where  her  negligee 
had  slipped  over.  It  was  a  singularly  intimate  and 
disconcerting  picture. 

Mrs.  Brinton,  speechless  for  the  moment,  gazed 
upon  her  friend,  so  changed  that  she  barely  rec- 
ognised her.  "  Ellie ! "  she  murmured  faintly, 
"  you  are  wonderful !  Stand  up  and  let  me  see 
you." 


26  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Mrs.  Howard  put  her  foot  into  her  slipper  firmly 
and  got  up.  The  deft  Anna  darted  about  her  like  a 
faithful  little  bee,  pulling  a  bow  here  or  patting  a 
bit  of  lace  there. 

"  Celeste  certainly  has  sold  you  a  negligee,"  said 
Mrs.  Brinton.  It  was  worthy  of  its  name,  for  it 
had  about  it  a  charm,  a  wicked  abandon  in  each  fold 
and  pleat  that  only  a  French  woman  could  have 
achieved. 

Mischief  entered  into  Mrs.  Brinton's  soul.  With 
one  more  glance  at  this  vision  of  golden  hair  and 
frills,  she  held  out  her  hand  to  her  friend.  "  Come, 
Ellie,"  she  urged,  "  there  is  someone  downstairs 
waiting  to  meet  you,  and  I  am  going  to  take  you 
just  as  you  are.  You  look  quite  wonderful." 

Mrs.  Howard  protested  faintly.  "  I  seem  rather 
undressed,  Peg."  But  Mrs.  Brinton  was  firm. 

"  Haste  is  the  main  thing,"  she  said,  "  and  he'll 
adore  it.  He  doesn't  know  it,  of  course,  but  he  is 
assisting  at  a  true  occasion.  You!  In  your  first 
negligee!  Come  just  as  you  are,  don't  alter  a 
thing." 

She  hurried  down  the  steps  ahead  of  Mrs.  Howard, 
who  followed  carefully  and  a  little  chary  of  her  high 
heeled  slippers. 

Mrs.    Brinton   pushed   aside   the   curtain   of   the 


MRS.   BRINTON'S  GUEST  27 

music  room.  "  Mr.  Thomas,  do  come  out,  I'm  bring- 
ing Mrs.  Howard  down  to  meet  you." 

He  rushed  out  so  quickly  that  he  almost  ran  over 
Mrs.  Brinton,  his  eyes  on  the  vision  at  the  bend  in 
the  stairway.  He  walked  past  Mrs.  Brinton,  who 
turned  to  present  him. 

Mrs.  Howard,  full  of  new-born  coquetry,  leaned 
over  the  stair  rail  and  smiled  recklessly  into  Mr. 
Thomas'  eager  face. 

Mrs.  Brinton  introduced  him  to  her.  "  Mrs. 
Howard,  Mr.  Amos  Thomas.  I  am  sure  Ellie,  you 
will  be  glad  I  called  you,  for  he  is  a  most  interesting 
man  and  quite  wild  to  meet  you.  But  you  can  only 
talk  to  him  a  moment,  Ellie,  for  it  is  late,  and  you 
have  to  dress."  She  went  on  into  the  dining-room 
to  give  Metz  a  message,  feeling  that  Mrs.  Howard 
would  be  less  embarrassed  without  her. 

When  they  were  alone  Mrs.  Howard  smiled  again 
at  Thomas,  so  daringly  that  it  sent  a  curious  dizzy 
sensation  through  his  brain.  He  leaned  against  the 
lower  post  of  the  stairs  to  steady  himself.  Mrs. 
Howard  made  a  pretence  of  gathering  her  wrapper 
about  her  more  closely  and  only  succeeded  in  showing 
her  very  attractive  satin  slippers  and  her  pretty, 
slim  ankles.  Not  a  move  escaped  Amos  Thomas, 
whose  susceptible  heart  was  pounding. 


28  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  I'm  not  fit  to  be  seen,"  Mrs.  Howard  said.  "  But 
Mrs.  Brinton  insisted  that  I  must  come.  I  do  won- 
der why?  " 

Thomas  found  his  voice.  "Because  I  begged  to 
see  you.  I  was  in  that  little  room  when  you  arrived, 
and  your  voice  was  so  marvellous  that  I  felt  I  must 
see  the  woman." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  surprised  out  of  her  flirtatious 
mood  for  a  moment.  Things  were  starting  in  even 
before  she  had  planned  for  them.  "  Do  you  mean 
you  heard  my  conversation  with  Mrs.  Brinton?  " 

Thomas  nodded.  "  Every  word,  and  it  fascinated 
me.  What  a  mind  and  soul  you  must  have." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  interested.  "  I  have  been  won- 
dering what  man  I  would  meet  first  in  New  York. 
And  just  what  he  would  think  of  me.  I  love  to  think 
you  liked  my  voice,"  she  ventured. 

Thomas  placed  his  hand  higher  on  the  balustrade, 
very  near  her  arm.  "  I  want  to  know  you  better,  to 
see  you  often.  Would  you  like  that  ?  "  he  asked 
softly. 

Mrs.  Howard  looked  at  him.  "  Are  you  mar- 
ried? "  she  asked. 

Thomas  stepped  back  for  a  moment.  The  direct- 
ness of  the  question  was  so  markedly  different  from 
her  flirtatious  manner  of  an  instant  before.  He  did 


MRS.   BRINTON'S  GUEST  29 

not  know  that  the  shrewd  New  England  habit  of 
years  found  it  difficult  to  so  quickly  drift  from  its 
moorings.  But  he  was  never  long  at  a  loss  for  a 
word. 

"I  — I,"  he  hesitated  "Well,  not  exactly. 
That  is  to  say,  I  am  not  married.  I  am  afraid,  dear 
lady,  that  my  particular  views  on  marriage  might 
seem  a  little  odd  to  you  until  you  understand  me 
better.  I  am  a  varietist.  But  I  don't  suppose  you 
ever  —  we  are  not  much  given  to  marriage,  you  see. 
However,  we  can  surely  let  that  pass  for  the  moment. 
I  couldn't  put  it  all  into  words  in  five  minutes.  But 
as  one  free  soul  to  another  I  shall  tell  you  the  beau- 
tiful truths  in  my  heart  when  next  we  meet.  When 
may  I  see  you?  To-morrow?  Can  I  come  in  the 
afternoon,  just  before  the  beautiful  twilight,  and 
take  you  to  a  quaint  little  Russian  tea  shop  in  the 
Ghetto?  I  won't  ride  in  cabs  or  automobiles,  but  if 
you  will  have  it  so,  we  will  take  a  trolley  car.  It 
doesn't  matter  if  only  the  eyes  of  my  soul  can  feed 
on  yours."  He  mounted  a  step  and  gazed  raptly  at 
her.  Mrs.  Howard  leaned  slightly  towards  him. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  agreed,  "  if  I  can  arrange  i£. 
You  must  promise  to  be  very  nice  to  me,  for  I  am 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  And  what  will  you 
talk  about?  I  know  so  little  of  life  or  love."  She 


30  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

looked  at  him  appealingly.     "  Will  you  teach  me?  " 

In  his  excitement  Thomas  stepped  on  a  low  chair 
at  the  foot  of  the  landing,  and  put  his  two  hands  on 
the  rail.  He  reached  out  impulsively  to  grasp  her 
hand. 

"  You  are  such  an  oasis  in  my  desert,  you  won- 
derful woman,"  he  murmured  in  an  emotional  whisper. 

Just  at  this  moment  Mrs.  Brinton  returned  and 
Mrs.  Howard,  who  saw  her  first,  drew  away  from 
him  and  started  hurriedly  up  the  stairs. 

"  I'm  going  this  instant,  Peg,"  she  assured  Mrs. 
Brinton.  "  Until  to-morrow,  Mr.  Thomas,"  and  be- 
fore he  realised  it  she  had  gone. 

With  as  much  dignity  as  he  could  muster,  Mr. 
Thomas  climbed  off  the  chair  and  came  over  to  Mrs. 
Brinton. 

Mrs.  Brinton's  mobile  mouth  was  quivering  with 
repressed  merriment.  There  was  no  question  of  Mrs. 
Howard's  first  conquest.  She  saw  Thomas  was  still 
in  a  dazed  condition.  Mrs.  Howard's  coming  and  her 
bewildering  candour  had  quite  driven  everything  else 
out  of  his  head. 

Mrs.  Brinton  held  out  her  hand,  "  You  know  you 
promised." 

He  moved  towards  the  hall.  "  I  am  already  start- 
ing," he  said.  "  And  to-morrow  after  Mrs.  Howard 


MRS.  BRINTON'S  GUEST  81 

and  I  return  from  the  Ghetto,  we  will  settle  the  fate 
of  the  lectures.  Once  more  a  woman  comes  into  my 
shattered  life !  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  sank  into  a  chair,  "  Good-bye,"  she 
said  faintly. 

"  Good-bye."     The  door  closed  behind  him. 

She  leaned  back  and  gave  way  to  uncontrollable 
laughter.  "The  Ghetto!  What  a  trysting  spot! 
The  Ghetto !  Oh,  Ellie  Howard !  " 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    TURNING    POINT 

IT  was  the  very  serenity  of  existence  that  had 
operated  as  much  as  anything  to  bring  about  the 
revolt  of  Mrs.  Farrell  Howard.  She  had  lived  her 
life  in  tw»  houses,  the  first  in  Roxbury,  where  her 
parents  had  dwelt  in  an  ingrown  New  England  en- 
vironment, and  later  in  Brookline,  where  she  and 
her  husband  had  moved  after  their  marriage. 

That  serenity  of  existence  was  the  off-spring  of 
generations  of  repression.  No  Howard  ever  con- 
fessed to  anything  so  interesting  as  excitement.  Emo- 
tion of  every  sort  had  been  added  to  the  biblical  list 
of  deadly  sins  in  that  serene  and  practical  family. 
For  twenty  years  Farrell  Howard,  Sr.,  left  the  Brook- 
line  house  at  the  same  hour  in  the  morning  and  re- 
turned as  punctually  at  an  unvarying  hour  in  the 
evening.  His  father  had  been  one  of  the  successful 
New  Englanders  in  the  East  India  trade  and  he  had 
turned  his  inheritance  over  many  times  by  judicious 
investments  in  city  and  suburban  real  estate.  Far- 
rell Howard,  Jr.,  literally,  was  born  into  this  unim- 
aginative business.  When  his  father  died,  quite  as 

32 


THE  TURNING  POINT  33 

unemotionally  as  he  lived,  the  younger  inherited  with 
the  office  and  the  business  the  hours  of  going  and  com- 
ing of  the  elder,  his  air  of  practicality  and  unexcite- 
ment,  his  preciseness  and  exactness,  his  nose  glasses 
and  his  calm,  and  almost  his  age.  Farrell  Howard, 
Jr.,  may  be  said  to  have  been  Brookline's  oldest  young 
man.  He  was  the  creature  of  his  father's  habit,  fol- 
lowing without  a  thought  of  anything  else  the  routine 
of  the  inherited  office  and  home. 

Farrell  was  short,  sandy  of  hair,  near-sighted  and 
formidable  only  when  thrown  off  the  path  of  habit. 
Then  he  was  irritable  and  complaining  until  he  man- 
aged to  get  his  feet  back  into  the  fixed  ways  of 
established  office  and  household  custom.  Each  Sat- 
urday afternoon  he  spent  at  home  and  in  spring  and 
summer  puttered  about  the  yard  and  garden  with  the 
care-taker,  just  as  his  father  had  done  in  earlier  days. 
On  Sunday  morning  he  arose  early  with  an  air  of 
extreme  sanctity  and  frowned  down  all  frivolity  of 
mother,  maid,  servant  and  animal.  He  faced  a  ser- 
mon with  severity  and  walked  home  from  church  with 
an  air  of  great  silence,  following  his  father's  literal 
interpretation  of  the  second  commandment  regarding 
the  animals  in  the  barn. 

All  of  Mrs.  Howard's  inborn  grace  and  charm,  her 
unreleased  spirit,  her  capacity  for  emotion  and  ex- 


34  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

perience,  her  hunger  for  life  and  living,  had  been 
rigorously  frowned  upon  by  her  husband.  One  of  his 
infrequent,  unbusinesslike  remarks  was  to  the  effect 
that  "  nice  "  women  ought  to  know  nothing  of  such 
pagan  things  as  emotion,  and  that  which  the  urbanites 
call  "  life."  Of  Boston's  gayer  side  the  elder  How- 
ard knew  little  save  by  scandalised  contact  with  an 
occasional  newspaper  item,  and  he  was  always  careful 
to  take  the  offending  journal  to  the  office  with  him. 
So  as  the  years  went  on  his  wife  learned  to  bury  feel- 
ing, sentiment  and  imagination.  She  forgot  an  early 
hunger  for  pretty  things,  her  unsatisfied  desires  for 
romance  and  lived  the  quiet,  uneventful  life  of  the 
well-bred  New  England  woman. 

She  was  not  really  unhappy  in  these  repressed 
years,  for  her  husband  was  devoted  to  her  in  his  rigid, 
undemonstrative  way,  and  very  proud  of  her.  She 
was  his  ideal  woman,  an  exemplary  wife,  a  careful 
housekeeper  and  a  model  mother.  Like  the  Emperor 
of  all  the  Germans,  he  believed  firmly  in  "  Kirche, 
Kinder  und  Kuche."  In  all  fairness  to  him  it  must 
be  admitted  that  in  many  ways  he  was  a  very  good 
husband.  He  was  rich  and  Mrs.  Howard  was  never 
stinted  in  anything.  She  spent  what  she  liked  and 
was  accountable  to  no  one.  He  was  a  church  warden 
and  a  prominent  man  in  the  community  in  which  he 


THE  TURNING  POINT  35 

lived.  His  small  horizon  was  largely  made  up  of 
his  business  and  his  wife  and  son,  and  if  he  lived 
narrowly,  it  was  at  least  consistently  so.  Mrs.  How- 
ard was  fond  of  him  and  appreciated  his  many  excel- 
lent qualities.  When  he  died  she  was  profoundly 
stirred.  He  was  the  husband  of  her  youth  and  he  had 
been  very  good  to  her.  She  then  missed  the  care  and 
protection  with  which  he  had  always  surrounded  her, 
and  felt  a  vague  loneliness  during  the  first  few  years 
after  his  death.  Farrell,  her  son,  was  a  young  man 
just  entering  college  at  the  time,  and  she  insisted 
upon  his  completing  his  studies.  As  his  father  did, 
Farrell  admired  and  respected  his  mother  more  than 
he  did  anyone  else  in  the  world.  She  stood  for  all 
that  was  sweet  and  womanly  in  his  life,  for  he  knew 
very  few  girls,  and  the  ones  who  came  to  his  mother's 
hospitable  roof  always  faded  into  insignificance  beside 
her  and  her  great  charm;  a  charm  which  years  of 
Brookline  and  a  large  family  of  prim  in-laws  had 
never  driven  away. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  easily  one  of  the  most  popular 
and  best  loved  women  of  her  age  in  Brookline.  Her 
house  was  a  centre  of  the  staidly  conventional  society 
of  that  aristocratic  suburb.  She  entertained  lavishly 
and  often.  Farrell's  college  friends  were  loud  in 
their  praises  of  her,  and  he  always  brought  them  home 


36  YEARS   OF   DISCRETION 

with  a  conscious  thrill  of  pride  in  his  charming 
mother.  Farrell  drove  the  fine  horses  his  father  had 
before  him,  and  Mrs.  Howard  had  two  or  three  quiet 
and  substantial  vehicles  to  drive  about  in.  She  would 
have  loved  a  motor,  but  she  knew  Farrell  did  not 
approve  of  cars,  and  she  repressed  that  desire  as 
she  had  done  hundreds  of  others.  She  was  quite 
aware  that  her  friends  considered  her  a  very  lucky 
woman,  with  her  model  son  and  her  large  and  inde- 
pendent fortune.  But  Mrs.  Howard  was  bored  out  of 
all  reason.  She  could  not  get  up  in  the  morning,  or 
go  to  bed  at  night  without  a  feeling  of  wearied  men- 
tal stagnation. 

But  her  mind  had  to  have  occupation,  and  as  thou- 
sands of  other  women  in  similar  situation  have  done, 
she  went  in  for  "  things."  She  surrendered  to  the 
helpful  suggestion  of  pastor  and  suburban  uplifter, 
joining  domestic  science  clubs,  art  and  travel  classes, 
the  directories  of  homes  and  benevolent  associations 
and  followed  in  other  directions  the  paths  of  mild 
and  innocuous  "  improvement."  Here  she  found 
many  other  women  quite  as  repressed  and  bored  as 
she  herself  and  felt  that  with  them  she  was  tramping 
the  rounds  of  some  great  cage.  She  was  doing  always 
everything  but  that  which  the  depths  of  her  spiritual 
soul  clamoured  for. 


THE  TURNING  POINT  37 

The  years  of  repression  made  her  revolt  all  the 
more  violent  and  certain  when  it  did  come.  The 
actual  moment  of  rebellion  was  her  forty-eighth  birth- 
day. It  was  one  of  those  grey,  dull  mornings  in 
the  very  early  spring  when  the  snow  has  faded  away, 
leaving  the  earth  a  soggy,  soppy  blank  against  an 
equally  blank  grey  sky.  Farrell  had  gone  off  to 
the  office  at  his  usual  exact  minute  and  after  Mrs. 
Howard  had  given  the  orders  for  the  day  to  cook 
and  maid  she  went  to  her  room.  For  a  time  she  stood 
at  the  window  above  the  garden,  looking  out  over 
the  dead  vines.  She  felt  the  bitter  depths  of  de- 
pression. She  felt  that  there  had  been  no  higher 
tones  in  her  life  than  in  that  dead  and  dreary  early 
March  landscape.  And  she  was  sure  that  in  her 
there  were  possibilities  for  beauty  and  life,  just  as 
vivid  in  hue  and  as  sprightly  in  form  as  there  were 
stored  in  the  unwakened  bulbs  and  roots  beneath  the 
soil  of  her  garden. 

She  went  to  her  glass  and  coldly  surveyed  her  at- 
tractions in  the  firm,  determined  manner  that  only 
women  can  who  have  generations  of  relentless  Puritan 
blood  coursing  beside  such  other  warmer  fluid  as 
there  might  be  in  her  veins. 

"  For  one  thing,"  she  said  aloud  to  herself,  "  there 
is  no  good  reason,  Ellie  Howard,  why  you  should 


38  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

continue  to  be  a  frump.  And  you  don't  have  to  keep 
on  going  the  endless  round  here.1 

"  Do  something,"  she  said,  clinching  her  fists  and 
fiercely  addressing  herself,  "  go  somewhere,  waken  up, 
brighten  up.  You  haven't  got  many  more  years  to 
do  it  in." 

And  then  she  calmly  analysed  herself. 

"  You're  almost  half  a  century  old.  You've  never 
really  lived  in  your  life.  You've  never  really  loved. 
You've  never  really  been  loved.  You've  got  more 
money  than  you  know  what  to  do  with.  Use  some 
of  it  before  you  are  too  old  to  get  any  good  of  it." 

She  looked  in  the  glass  at  a  figure  quite  shapeless 
in  the  practical  negligee  and  the  low-heeled  slippers. 
She  ran  her  fingers  over  her  smooth,  simply-parted 
greyish-brown  hair  and  shivered.  She  got  quite  close 
to  the  mirror  and  cruelly  followed  each  tiny  wrinkle. 

Then  she  turned,  and  for  a  few  minutes  walked 
rapidly  up  and  down  the  floor,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  check,  if  possible,  the  tumult  of  thought  and 
to  select  some  definite  plan  out  of  mental  chaos. 

"  I  have  it,"  she  announced  finally  and  with  de- 
cision. "  I'll  make  that  long-promised  visit  to  Peg 
and  I'll  buy  everything  in  Boston  first." 

Her  plan  matured  quite  as  rapidly  as  it  had  been 
•conceived.  She  spent  days  in  Boston  hunting  a  sort 


Things  were  starting  in  even  before  she  had   planned 
for  them 


THE  TURNING  POINT  39 

of  rebirth  trousseau  among  the  modistes.  She  finally 
remembered  Mrs.  Brinton's  Celeste,  found  her  and 
discovered  her  with  a  wonderful  exhibit  of  models. 
She  bought  practically  all  of  them  that  fitted  or  that 
could  be  made  to  fit  her.  Celeste,  no  less  interested, 
attended  with  feverish  activity  on  the  plans  for  the 
blossoming  out  into  butterflydom  of  the  long  dormant 
chrysalis. 

Mrs.  Brinton,  on  whom  Mrs.  Howard  expected  to 
descend,  was  her  oldest  friend.  Margaret  Oliver 
Brinton  and  she  had  gone  to  boarding  school  together 
and  visited  back  and  forth  as  young  girls.  When 
Mrs.  Howard  married,  Mrs.  Brinton  had  been  one 
of  her  bridesmaids.  Mrs.  Brinton's  own  marriage, 
which  followed  Mrs.  Howard's  very  shortly,  had  taken 
her  into  the  gayest  set  in  New  York,  and  she  had 
seen  less  and  less  of  her  old  friend.  Mrs.  Brinton 
had  no  children,  but,  as  she  had  married  a  man  who 
was  entirely  given  up  to  the  allurements  of  the^world 
in  which  he  lived,  it  was  not  easy  to  persuade  him 
to  go  to  Brookline  even  for  a  visit,  and  the  Howards 
rarely  came  to  Manhattan.  After  Farrell  was  born 
Mrs.  Brinton  made  a  brief  flying  visit  to  see  Ellie 
Howard  and  to  admire  the  new  baby.  She  went 
again  when  he  was  just  finishing  school,  to  help  cele- 
brate a  wedding  anniversary,  and  she  felt  more  thank- 


40  YEARS   OF   DISCRETION 

ful  than  she  could  say  that  the  stiff,  spectacled,  red- 
haired  young  boy  did  not  belong  to  her.  She  really 
was  sorry  for  Ellie.  She  seemed  to  be  so  engulfed 
in  the  Howard  atmosphere.  When  the  older  Howard 
died  Mrs.  Brinton  went  to  his  funeral  and  tried  to 
persuade  Mrs.  Howard  to  return  with  her  to  New 
York ;  but  Farrell  declined  the  invitation  for  her  po- 
litely. His  mother  needed  great  care  and  devotion 
at  this  trying  time,  and  he  felt  sure  he  could  supply 
it  as  no  one  else  could.  After  Mrs.  Brinton's  own 
husband  died,  she  and  Mrs.  Howard  met  each  year  or 
so  for  a  day  or  two,  and  they  went  on  one  or  two 
short  summer  outings  together.  Mrs.  Brinton 
fumed  over  Mrs.  Howard's  settled  and  middle-aged 
appearance,  and  her  humdrum  existence,  and  she  con- 
tinually wrote  and  urged  her  to  change  her  way  of 
living.  She  had  asked  Mrs.  Howard  so  often  to  visit 
her  in  New  York  that  she  hardly  believed  her  own 
eyes,  when  Mrs.  Howard's  letter  arrived  saying  she 
was  coming  early  in  ApriL  A  few  days  later  a  wire 
confirmed  her  coming. 

The  widow  was  really  ready  for  her  coming  out. 
Unknown  to  Farrell  she  had  found  a  clever  French 
maid  in  Boston  and  had  engaged  her  against  the  ad- 
vance on  New  York.  Then  there  came  the  problem  of 
telling  Farrell,  but  the  day  before  she  was  to  go  he 


THE  TURNING  POINT  41 

announced  that  the  ducks  were  flying  and  that  he 
was  to  go  on  his  only  dissipation,  a  shooting  trip, 
which  meant  three  days  of  solemn  peppering  at  mal- 
lards and  blue-bills.  So  she  didn't  have  to  tell  him. 
On  the  morning  he  was  to  have  returned  she  started 
out  gaily  for  Boston,  leaving  word  with  the  servants 
that  she  would  write  Farrell  when  she  got  to  New 
York.  In  Boston  she  met  Anna,  who  had  supervised 
the  moving  of  her  convention  of  trunks  to  the  station. 
They  remained  over-night  at  a  hotel,  caught  a  morn- 
ing train  and  before  she  knew  it  Boston  was  behind 
her  and  she  felt  that  the  bridges  of  years  were  being 
burned. 

But  fate  had  other  plans.  Farrell  found  the  shoot- 
ing poor  and  caught  a  wretched  cold,  which  the  damp 
marshes  and  wet  boots  only  made  worse.  And  he  came 
back  sneezing  and  coughing  prepared  to  find  a  gentle 
and  capable  mother  who  would  hover  about  him,  doing 
a  hundred  and  one  things  for  his  creature  comfort. 
With  the  good  nature,  which  was  one  of  her  chief est 
charms,  Mrs.  Howard  had  always  spoiled  Farrell. 
The  house,  the  table,  even  her  own  life,  were  studied 
and  arranged  to  meet  his  approval.  And  he  was  par- 
ticularly fond  of  saying  to  his  few  intimates  that  no 
girl  would  ever  be  so  considerate  of  him  as  his  mother 
was. 


42  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

His  dismay  at  finding  her  gone  was  pathetic.  And 
when  he  was  told  that  she  had  left  for  New  York 
on  a  visit,  the  consternation  that  filled  his  mind  quite 
drove  the  cold  out  of  his  head.  The  house,  which 
was  usually  as  ship-shape  and  orderly  as  a  yacht, 
seemed  at  sixes  and  sevens.  The  servants  were  all 
vaguely  disturbed,  and  quite  out  of  the  rut  they  had 
walked  in  so  long,  guided  by  Mrs.  Howard's  firm, 
capable  hand.  Farrell  wandered  about  like  a  lost 
soul  for  a  couple  of  hours.  If  the  house  could  go 
to  pieces  in  this  way  when  his  mother  had  only  been 
gone  a  day,  what  would  it  be  after  a  long  visit?  It 
was  not  to  be  endured.  The  sight  of  the  canary 
chirping  plaintively  to  be  watered  and  fed  convinced 
him.  He  and  the  servants  could  not  get  on  without 
her,  and  he  would  go  and  tell  her  so.  The  thought 
that  she  would  not  come  back  did  not  enter  his  well- 
regulated  head.  He  caught  a  train  an  hour  or  two 
after  her  own  had  gone.  Filled  with  righteous  indig- 
nation and  a  feeling  that  he  had  been  deserted  in  a 
cruel  world,  he  set  out  for  New  York  to  find  his  truant 
mother. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    THREE    MUSKETEERS 

MRS.  BRINTON  came  down  the  stairs  slowly.  She 
was  dressed  for  dinner  in  her  exquisite  evening  gown, 
with  John  Strong's  violets  pinned  close  to  the  laces 
at  her  breast,  and  her  famous  pearls  as  her  only 
jewels.  She  was  so  engrossed  in  thought  that  she 
did  not  notice  Metz,  who  came  toward  her. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Madame,"  he  said,  "  but  cook  asks 
is  it  dinner  in  or  dinner  out,  as  she  had  heard  talk 
of  both." 

She  glanced  at  Metz  patiently,  for  she  knew  quite 
well  that  he  had  a  great  deal  more  than  that  to  say 
to  her.  She  had  not  wintered  and  summered  this  odd 
old  servant  for  ten  years  without  knowing  his  pe- 
culiarities. She  realised  that  he  loved  to  talk.  He 
talked  respectfully,  deprecatingly,  but  always  on  the 
slightest  provocation  his  kindly,  garrulous  tongue 
would  run  on  about  the  merest  trifle.  Metz  was  a 
lean,  gaunt  man  of  uncertain  years.  He  might  have 
been  either  forty  or  sixty.  He  was  very  much  the 

gentleman  and  an  invaluable  servant,  but  Mrs.  Brin- 

43 


m 

ton  knew  that  just  so  often  she  had  to  listen  to  him. 

Resigned  to  the  inevitable,  she  sat  down  and  made 
herself  quite  comfortable.  "  We  dine  out,  tell  cook, 
and  a  late  breakfast,"  she  directed.  "  Have  the  cock- 
tail wagon  in  here  when  the  gentlemen  arrive,  and 
cigarettes." 

Metz  took  a  long  breath.  "  Very  good,  Madame. 
Cook  says,  is  breakfast  light  or  heavy,  not  knowing 
Mrs.  Howard's  taste.  And  cook  asks,  '  Does  she  hot 
water  early,'  and  cook  also  asks,  '  Is  it  plain  or  with 
lemon  ? '  Cook  having  heard  Mrs.  Howard  is  from 
Boston,  feels  sure  she  hot  waters;  but  Mrs.  Howard's 
maid  being  new,  doesn't  know.  Cook  also  asks,  it 
being  her  Bible  Class  evening,  if  dinner  should  be  din- 
ner out,  is  there  any  objection  to  her  taking  the 
young  parlour  maid,  whom  she  thinks  rather  a  godless 
girl,  to  the  Class  with  her.  And  cook  asks  will 
Madame  allow  me  to  call  her  a  taxi,  as  it's  damp  and 
she's  feeling  rheumatic.  Cook  says, — " 

Mrs.  Brinton  protested  faintly,  "  Metz,  I  beg  of 
you!  I  would  rather  take  a  bridge  lesson  that  one 
of  cook's  messages.  No  wonder  I  keep  house  through 
my  speaking  tube.  Tell  her  to  do  anything  she  likes, 
always,  Metz.  For  she  can  cook !  " 

"  Very  good,  Madame."  He  departed  to  speed 
cook  Bible-classwards. 


THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS         45 

Mrs.  Howard's  maid  ran  down  the  stairs  and  came 
over  to  Mrs.  Brinton.  She  was  full  of  breathless 
interest  as  she  spoke.  "  Madame  Brinton,  Madame 
Howard  she  ask  you  to  let  her  know  when  all  three 
messieurs  have  arrived,  for  the  grand  entree ! " 

Mrs.  Brinton  smiled  into  Anna's  earnest  young 
face.  "  That  was  your  clever  idea,  wasn't  it,  Anna? 
I  am  sure  it  was." 

Anna  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Ah,  well,  Mrs. 
Howard  has  never  had  much  good  time.  For  me,  I 
want  Mrs.  Howard  to  have  all  messieurs  possible. 
The  gentleman,  Thomas,  he  likes  the  beautiful  un- 
dress, you  think  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  nodded,  "  He  looked  at  it  with  hun- 
ger," she  said.  "  It  was  not  wasted,  Anna." 

The  maid  was  much  gratified  and  smiled  happily. 
"  Ravissante.  Only  wait,  Madame  Brinton.  Al- 
ready Mrs.  Howard  look  like  a  young  lovely  lady.'* 

"  God  speed  the  play ! "  laughed  Mrs.  Brinton. 
"  Hurry  her,  my  good  Anna,  the  debutante  must  be 
ready  for  the  grand  entree." 

"  If  Madame  Brinton  rings  twice,"  Anna  assured 
her,  "  Madame  Howard  appear."  Then  she  ran  up 
the  stairs  as  swiftly  as  she  had  come  down. 

Metz,  who  had  answered  the  bell,  announced  the 
first  of  Mrs.  Brinton's  guests  in  John  Strong,  who 


46  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

came  at  once  into  the  room.  He  was  a  typical  New 
York  club  man  of  forty-eight,  well-dressed  and  per- 
fectly-groomed. His  hair  was  iron  grey,  and  he 
was  a  shade  too  stout,  but  his  complexion  was  fresh 
and  clear  and  his  step  and  bearing  elastic  and  grace- 
ful. He  had  a  pleasant,  quiet  manner  and  an  air 
of  agreeable  conventionality.  He  had  known  Mrs. 
Brinton  for  more  years  than  she  cared  to  admit,  and 
she  was  quite  delighted  to  see  him. 

John  Strong  had  been  Mrs.  Brinton's  ardent  ad- 
mirer from  the  day  her  husband,  who  was  one  of  his 
old  friends,  had  presented  him  to  her.  He  had  en- 
vied Paul  Brinton  his  happiness  from  the  moment  he 
first  saw  her  charming  face  and  superb  black  head. 
The  years  had  only  strengthened  that  admiration. 
He  couldn't  remember  the  day  he  first  realised  that 
he  loved  her,  but  he  admitted  to  himself  that  it  was 
long  before  Paul  Brinton  died;  and  after  her  first 
grief,  when  she  began  to  go  out  a  little  again,  he  had 
attached  himself  gently  and  unobtrusively  to  her 
train.  There  had  been  few  days  since  then  that  he 
had  not  seen  her.  At  first  she  paid  very  little  atten- 
tion to  him  or  his  devotion.  He  had  always  been  an 
intimate  at  the  Brinton  house  and  she  was  accustomed 
to  seeing  him  about.  But  after  a  year  or  so  she  grew 
to  depend  on  him  and  his  perfect  consideration.  He 


THE   THREE  MUSKETEERS         47 

never  failed  or  disappointed  her,  he  never  made  jealous 
scenes  or  demanded  anything,  but  he  was  always  there 
and  she  cared  for  him  more  than  she  allowed  herself 
to  believe.  He  had  asked  her  to  marry  him  off  and 
on  almost  daily  for  six  years,  for  fear,  as  he  naively 
expressed  it,  "  you  might  feel  like  saying  *  yes ' 
some  day  and  not  know  it,"  and  she  knew  that  in 
time  she  probably  would  give  in.  Women  usually 
do. 

She  rose  to  greet  him  with  a  cordiality  that  she 
yielded  no  other  man.  "  How  are  you,  Jack?  "  she 
said.  "  It  seems  ages  since  you  were  here,  and  yet 
it  was  yesterday." 

Strong  took  her  slim  fingers  in  his  own  and  kissed 
them  fervently.  "  That  is  ages,"  he  agreed.  "  I 
ought  to  be  here  always.  How  wonderful  you  look 
to-night."  He  stood  back  a  little  to  admire  her.  "  I 
never  saw  a  nicer  frock." 

Mrs.  Brinton  sat  down  again  and  he  stood  in  front 
of  her,  a  handsome,  well-preserved  figure,  with  the 
utter  devotion  of  the  faithful,  life-long  lover  in  his 
kindly  eyes. 

"  I  adore  this  frock  myself,"  she  confessed,  "  and 
your  violets  are  charming  with  it.  Where's  Dal?  I 
supposed  you'd  leave  the  club  together." 

Strong  laughed  and  swung  his  gloves  idly  as  if 


he  were  trying  to  gain  a  moment  or  two  to  remember 
why  he  hadn't  brought  Dal. 

But  Mrs.  Brinton  insisted.  "  Where  is  he,  Jack  ? 
Don't  tell  me  he  isn't  dressed  yet." 

"  Of  course  he's  dressed,"  Strong  said.  "  I  left 
him  drinking  an  old-fashioned  cocktail  with  Ned 
Summers,  and  I  warned  him  not  to  start  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  I  came  early  to  have  a  moment  alone 
with  you.  I  never  see  you  any  more.  We  are  always 
about  with  enough  people  to  form  a  convention,  and 
I  never  want  to  see  anyone  but  you.'* 

Mrs.  Brinton  looked  up  at  him.  "  I  expect  to  lose 
you  to-night,  my  friend.  You  and  Michael  Doyle, 
and  even  Dal  to  Eleanor  Howard." 

Strong  was  much  amused  at  the  mere  idea  of  it. 
"  Of  course,  I  don't  doubt  the  lady's  charm,"  he  said, 
"  but  you  will  admit  a  Brookline  widow  doesn't  sound 
like  me." 

"  But,"  Mrs.  Brinton  objected,  "  you  haven't  seen 
this  widow.  She's  unique,  and  she  is  clever.  I  hope 
she'll  frighten  you.  I  don't  want  to  lose  you." 

Strong  came  closer.  "  If  1  thought  you  meant  it !  " 
he  said  softly. 

"  But  I  do,  just  this  moment,"  Mrs.  Brinton  an- 
swered. She  got  up  slowly  and  looked  at  him  from 
under  her  long  lashes  daringly.  "  Even  though  I 


THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS         49 

am  a  stubborn  creature,  Jack,  I  like  to  know  that 
you  are  always  there.  And  that  if  I  put  out  my 
fingers  you'll  be  sure  to  close  your  hand  on  them." 

She  held  out  one  hand  to  Strong,  who  took  it  in 
both  of  his  and  held  it  close  against  his  breast,  draw- 
ing her  near  to  him.  "  As  long  as  you  and  I  are  you 
and  I.  I've  wanted  you  ten  years,"  he  murmured, 
"  and  I  care  more  each  year,  dear." 

"  I  know,  my  friend,"  she  returned,  with  a  flush 
that  rewarded  him.  "  I  wonder  you  still  bother." 

He  bent  closer.     "  Some  day  you'll  come." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  sighed.  "  I  wonder  that  I  don't. 
I  am  a  wretch,  and  you  are  like  the  Bank  of  England, 
and  deserve  more  than  I  could  ever  give  you.  I  ought 
to  be  scolded  and  shaken." 

"  I  can't  help  myself,"  he  said.  "  You  are  a  habit. 
You've  been  one  ever  since  I  saw  you  first  in  your 
widow's  black.  And  the  day  you  put  a  touch  of  white 
on  your  dress  I  felt  immensely  cheered.  And  when 
you  wore  lavender,  I  felt  really  encouraged.  Do  you 
remember  you  lunched  with  me  the  day  you  blossomed 
out  in  all  the  colours?  I  surely  thought  I  was  the 
luckiest  dog  in  all  the  world  that  day.  But  here  we 
are  still,"  he  sighed  a  little.  "  How  long  I've  waited 
for  you ! " 

Just  as  she  was  about  to  answer  the  bell  rang  amd 


60  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

she  drew  her  hand  away  slowly,  but  not  before  Strong 
had  kissed  her  fingers  and  her  wrist,  and  finally,  with 
much  warmth  her  round  white  elbow.  Then  he 
smiled  at  her  contentedly. 

"  Bring  on  your  widows.  Pm  ready ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. They  turned  to  greet  Christopher  Dallas. 

"  I  hear,  Dal,  that  John  wouldn't  fetch  you.  I  call 
it  very  mean  of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton,  as  she  shook 
hands  with  him,  her  eyes  taking  in  with  admiration 
his  superb  masculinity.  He  looked  particularly  well 
on  this  occasion,  and  appeared  so  young  and  dapper 
in  his  well-cut  evening  clothes  that  even  Strong  saw 
his  friend  anew. 

Christopher  Dallas  did  not  look  a  day  over  forty- 
five  as  he  entered  Mrs.  Brinton's  drawing-room,  though 
one  who  knew  could  have  told  you  that  he  was  fifty- 
one.  He  was  irresistibly  attractive  and  his  superb 
natural  equipment  was  given  added  momentum  by  per- 
fect manners,  courtesy  and  a  sort  of  courtly,  old- 
school  breeding.  There  was  poise  behind  all  his 
handsome,  perfectly-groomed  person  and  ease  seemed 
to  have  been  born  in  him.  One  felt  instinctively  that 
he  had  lived  life  intensely  and  fully,  that  he  had  tried 
all  things  everywhere  and  liked  very  few.  He  was 
evidently  a  prince  of  good  fellows  among  men  and  a 
great  favourite  among  women.  At  fifty-one  he  was 


THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS         51 

a  millionaire  many  times  over,  he  had  ranged  the  world 
and  yet  retained  no  real,  vital,  central  interest.  His 
innermost  desires  and  hopes  still  remained  unfulfilled. 
In  a  professional  way  he  was  one  of  those  peculiarly 
successful  men  in  that  he  had  won  name  and  for- 
tune without  surrendering  himself  and  his  time  to  an 
office. 

Dallas  laughed  at  Strong  as  they  stood  facing  each 
other.  The  two  lived  together  at  the  same  club  and 
were  inseparable. 

"  I  don't  blame  him,"  Dallas  said,  referring  to 
Strong's  remark.  "  I  am  sure  if  I  were  he  I  would 
never  come  to  this  house  with  any  man.  I  would 
find  out  first  when  you  would  be  here  alone.  And 
he  must  sometimes  feel  the  need  of  a  vacation  from 
me.  We  have  lived  together  for  fifteen  years." 

Strong's  eyes  twinkled.  "  I  understand,  Dal,"  he 
said,  "  that  Mrs.  Farrell  Howard  of  Brookline,  Massa- 
chusetts, is  just  about  going  to  capture  your  young 
affections." 

Dallas  nodded.  "  Yes,  Margaret  promised  me  her 
over  the  telephone  this  morning.  And  after  my  out- 
burst to  you  it's  providential." 

Strong  waved  his  hand  at  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  Please 
tell  Margaret,  Dal.  He  has  a  confession  to  make, 
Margaret,  that  *ill  surprise  you  awfully." 


52  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Metz  entered  with  the  cigarettes  and  cigars,  which 
Mrs.  Brinton  directed  him  to  put  on  the  small  smok- 
ing table.  She  took  a  cigarette  herself  and  moved 
over  nearer  the  two  men  and  sat  down.  Strong 
lounged  on  the  divan  beside  her  and  Dallas  sat  in  a 
big  arm  chair  near  her. 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed.  "  This  is  a  wonderful  day. 
I  really  hear  things,'*  she  said.  "  Do  smoke  and  tell 
me  your  news,  Dal,  before  Michael  comes." 

Strong  smiled.  "  Are  you  afraid  Michael  might 
put  a  damper  on  Dal?  "  he  asked.  "  You  don't  half 
realise  Dai's  possibilities.  He's  not  afraid  of  any 
man  on  the  earth,  or  the  devil.  I  haven't  lived  with 
him  all  these  years  for  nothing.  There  is  a  wanton 
twinkle  in  his  eye  to-day." 

"I  won't  tell  it  to  Michael  Doyle,"  Dallas  said 
firmly,  "  for  he  is  neither  fish,  fowl  nor  good  red  her- 
ring. He's  Irish." 

"  Don't  abuse  Michael,"  begged  Mrs.  Brinton,  "  I 
adore  him.  And  do  tell  me  this  interesting  thing  that 
will  surprise  me  so." 

"  Perhaps  it  won't  surprise  you  at  all,"  Dallas 
began.  "  But  Jack  is  right  about  one  thing,  I  have 
a  wanton  fancy,  and  it's  so  absurd  for  a  man  of  my 
age  that  I  am  prepared  to  be  laughed  at.  If  only  you 
will  understand  me !  To  begin  with,  I  am  finding  the 


THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS         5S 

Club  dull  and  life  limps.  I  am  getting  old,  too,  and 
I  hate  that.  It  isn't  wrinkles  or  lines  or  grey  hairs 
that  I  mind,  because  they  are  only  on  the  surface, 
but  it's  the  astounding  fact  that  I  have  lived  half  a 
century.  Some  day  I  shall  break  up  all  of  a  sudden 
like  the  Deacon's  one-horse  shay,  and  then  people  will 
gloat  over  me.  And  before  that  happens,  I  do  want 
to  have  a  last  splendid  fling,  a  wonderful  farewell 
set-to  with  one  of  your  adorable  sex.  My  swan  song, 
if  you  will.  The  only  difficulty  is  that  all  the  women 
I  like  are  married  or  annexed,  and  be  it  written  down 
of  me,  I  was  never  one  for  debutantes.  Give  me  an 
interesting  page  to  read,  not  a  blank  on  which  I 
must  painstakingly  inscribe  my  monogram.  Let  me 
rather  find  so  many  names'  written  there,  that  there 
is  barely  space  left  to  carve  mine.  Of  course,  I  can 
picture  no  greater  joy  than  to  make  love  to  you, 
Margaret,  but  I  do  rather  like  John,  and  he  has 
builded  a  high  wall  all  about  you  and  put  signs  of 
his  own  all  over  it.  And  I  will  not  share  my  affair. 
I  want  a  heart  interest  whose  only  alphabet  is  spelled 
with  the  letters  of  my  name.  I  must  have  a  love 
affair.  I  am  just  in  the  humour.  Even  if  spring  is 
a  liar  with  her  violets  and  sweet  lilacs,  she  is  the  real 
promiser.  A  poet  said  she  always  promised  us  the 
same  old  lie  and  we  always  believed  her,  the  promise 


54  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

of  the  perfect  woman.  And  this  identical  April  she 
has  lied  so  well  that  I  will  swear  by  her.  I  am.  ready 
to  jump  into  a  boat  and  go  sailing  out  on  a  deep, 
strange  sea,  only  trusting  that  a  kind  providence  will 
tell  me  when  I  make  my  first  port.  I  warn  you,  Mar- 
garet, it's  love  I  want.  I  have  reached  that  dangerous 
and  criminal  age  when  I  would  barter  away  my  soul  — 
to  a  woman  who  had  one." 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  immoderately.  "  It  is  so 
delicious  that  it  can't  be  true.  From  you,  too.  Only 
half  an  hour  ago  Eleanor  Howard  informed  me  that 
she  must  have  a  love  affair,  and  without  even  asking, 
I  promised  that  she  might  play  with  you,  Dal.  Isn't 
Providence  almost  too  complaisant  ?  I  haven't  been  so 
entertained  in  years.  You  were  always  brave  at  the 
game,  Dal,  but  for  you  to  sigh  and  be  poetical  is 
worth  while.  I  wouldn't  have  anything  happen  to  it 
for  worlds ! " 

Strong  blew  smoke  rings  in  front  of  him.  "  Look 
out,"  he  cautioned.  "  If  Christopher  Dallas  is  in  that 
reckless  a  mood,  I  wash  my  hands  of  him.  Never  say 
I  didn't  warn  you.  He's  not  to  be  trusted,  when  he  is 
sentimental  or  retrospective.  And  he  is  both  now. 
Upon  my  soul,  I  fear  for  the  lady."  He  gazed  in 
mock  terror  at  her. 


THE    THREE    MUSKETEERS         55 

But  Mrs.  Brinton  was  not  to  be  alarmed.  "  I  only 
hope  they  do  play  games,"  she  said.  "  It  might  do 
them  both  good,  and  heaven  knows,  it  would  amuse 
me  immensely.  Here's  Michael,  bless  him,  he  never 
forgets  my  chocolates." 

The  two  men  nodded  at  Doyle  as  he  entered,  carry- 
ing a  gorgeous  bonbon  box  which  he  handed  Mrs. 
Brinton. 

Michael  Doyle  smiled  his  own  charming  smile,  as 
he  gazed  on  his  hostess. 

"  I'm  of  poor  and  common  parentage,"  he  said, 
"  but  I've  an  excellent  memory  for  what  ladies  like, 
chocolates  and  other  things.  How  are  you  two  boys  ? 
Jack  looks  quite  serious.  And  Mrs.  Brinton  is  so 
bewildering  to-night  that  if  I  said  the  half  I  feel,  I 
know  what  stone  Dal  there  would  say  I  had  been  kiss- 
ing." He  had  a  delicious  touch  of  brogue,  and  it 
added  much  to  his  charm. 

Doyle  was  a  handsome,  sturdy  Irishman,  with  an 
excellent  disposition,  and  an  extremely  sunny  smile. 
He  had  a  quick  wit  and  a  rare  gift  of  perception. 
Underneath  a  well-clothed,  well-put-together  exterior, 
he  was  a  very  human,  natural  soul.  His  manner  was 
a  trifle  noisy,  but  he  had  a  personality  that  quite 
overpowered  his  lowly  origin  and  a  gift  of  blarney  that 


56  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

was  his  salvation.  He  was  over  fifty  and  a  tremendous 
figure  in  political  New  York,  where  he  had  risen  from 
bartender  to  millionaire  promoter. 

Doyle  was  one  of  the  few  men  of  his  type  and  origin 
whose  rise  in  politics  had  been  matched  by  an  equal 
rise  in  society.  In  both  places  his  Celtic  adaptability 
helped.  And  he  had  an  art  for  pleasing  women  which 
quite  matched  an  ability  for  handling  men.  Add  to 
this  a  shrewd  business  sense,  a  brilliant  persistency  and 
a  good  sense  of  the  right  things  to  have,  and  it  was 
not  difficult  to  understand  the  Irishman's  success. 

Though  his  origin  was  humble  enough,  he  himself 
had  never  had  a  humble  position  in  any  environment. 
He  was  a  leader  of  the  parochial  youth  as  a  boy,  and 
early  learned  the  value  of  being  a  man  who  not  only 
could  bring  his  own  vote,  but  a  great  many  more  to 
his  ward  chieftain.  To  be  sure,  he  had  served  once 
as  a  bartender,  but  that  had  only  widened  the  circle 
of  his  friends  and  paved  the  way  for  further  ad- 
vances. 

Not  having  had  much  of  a  chance  at  school  he 
had  made  men  his  books  and  his  lessons  were  learned 
thoroughly.  When  wider  opportunities  offered  them- 
selves he  was  ready  and  his  progress  upward  aston- 
ished both  his  friends  and  enemies.  Once  financially 
successful,  he  found  himself  readily  admitted  to  any 


THE  THREE  MUSKETEERS         57 

masculine  circle,  where  high  value  was  placed  on  his 
wit  and  affability.  Knowing  the  men  of  the  better 
class  it  was  not  long  until  he  had  met  the  women. 
Among  them  he  was  even  more  of  a  favourite  than 
with  the  men.  Mrs.  Brinton  regarded  him  as  one  of 
her  chief est  discoveries.  It  was  now  many  years  since 
he  had  first  found  his  way  to  her  house,  and  he  had 
ever  since  been  a  faithful  caller. 

Mrs.  Brinton  moved  her  skirts  aside  to  make  room 
for  him  beside  her,  and  he  sat  down  easily,  quite  as 
much  at  home  as  Strong  was,  for  he  and  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton were  excellent  friends. 

Strong  leaned  over  as  if  he  were  telling  him  an 
important  secret.  "  Do  you  notice  how  serious  Dal 
looks,  Michael?"  he  asked.  "Well,  he's  hunting  a 
love  affair.  He  wants  a  soul  mate." 

Michael  stared.  "  Hunting  is  he?  Well,  the 
town's  full  of  soul  mates,  bless  them !  I  might  intro- 
duce him  to  a  couple  myself.  What  colour  is  he 
after?" 

Strong  laughed.  "  A  grey  head,  I  believe.  He 
wants  a  well-seasoned  soul  mate,  none  of  your  fickle 
fillies  for  Dallas.  He  must  have  a  lady  who  knows 
her  book." 

Dallas  laughed  as  he  lit  another  cigarette,  while 
Metz  came  in  pushing  the  cocktail  wagon  before  him* 


68 

He  left  it  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  took  the 
tray  of  cigars  and  cigarettes  to  Doyle. 

The  Irishman  lighted  a  cigar  and  turned  again  to 
Dallas.  Dallas,  sentimental,  was  a  new  specimen  and 
Doyle  looked  him  over  interestedly.  "  What's  started 
ye  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  The  spring,  I  take  it." 

Strong  interrupted,  "  He's  begging  for  trouble, 
Michael." 

Dallas  leaned  back,  lazily,  looking  at  Mrs.  Brinton 
with  half-shut  eyes. 

"Well,  Dal?"  she  queried.  "  Don't  stop.  Shall 
I  provide  you  the  love  affair  ?  " 

"  If  the  Brookline  widow  is  in  a  springtime  mood, 
there  is  no  telling  what  we  might  do,"  he  confessed. 

Strong  waved  his  cigar  at  Michael  triumphantly. 
"  There,"  he  said.  "  Now  you  can  hear  him  your- 
self. Isn't  it  worth  while,  eh?  " 

Michael  nodded.  "  I'll  take  pains  lookin'  up  that 
soul-mate  for  ye,  DaL  This  is  too  good  to  lose,  this 
humour." 

Mrs.  Brinton  rose,  and  as  the  men  followed  her 
example,  she  motioned  to  the  stairway  where  Anna, 
carrying  Mrs.  Howard's  evening  cloak  and  gloves, 
was  coming  down  the  stairway. 

"  Speaking  of  soul  mates,"  she  said,  moving  across 


59 

the  room  to  more  fully  watch  them  as  Mrs.  Howard 
made  her  appearance,  "  my  widow  ought  to  be  com- 
ing down." 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    NEW    MOTHER 

IN  her  dreams  at  Brookline  Mrs.  Howard  had 
imagined  no  more  flattering  reception  for  herself  than 
that  which  awaited  her  now  in  Mrs.  Brinton's  draw- 
ing-room. Three  handsome,  attractive,  eligible  bache- 
lors of  a  seasoned  middle-age  awaited  her,  all  quite 
breathless  with  interest.  Mrs.  Brinton  had  so  cleverly 
sketched  the  widow  for  each  man  that  he  was  quite 
wild  to  meet  her,  and  Anna,  with  a  Gallic  theatrical 
sense,  had  seen  to  it  that  her  mistress  should  really 
have  an  "  entrance  "  into  her  new  life. 

Anna,  having  notified  Mrs.  Brinton  of  Mrs.  How- 
ard's readiness,  tripped  back  up  the  stairs  after  leav- 
ing an  opera  cloak  over  the  back  of  one  of  the  drawing- 
room  chairs.  Mrs.  Brinton  and  the  men,  ranged  in 
semi-circle  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  waited,  looking 
eagerly  up  the  stairs.  Mrs.  Howard  appeared  and 
came  down  slowly,  enjoying  to  the  utmost  the  crea- 
tion of  her  first  sensation. 

Not  only  were  the  men  quite  overcome  by  her  charm, 
but  Mrs.  Brinton  faced  her  in  amazement.  She  had 

60 


THE  NEW  MOTHER  61 

not  dreamed  Ellie  could  look  so  lovely.  John  Strong 
hastily  pulled  down  his  waistcoat  and  ran  his  hand 
over  his  hair  to  smooth  it.  Michael  Doyle  stepped 
forward,  throwing  away  his  cigar.  Satisfaction  and 
admiration  were  written  in  every  line  of  his  handsome 
face.  But  Dallas,  whose  heart  was  beating  so  fast 
that  he  feared  the  others  must  hear  it,  stood  quite 
motionless.  To  him  it  was  too  wonderful  to  be  true, 
this  vision  of  fairness.  Who  dared  to  say  that  spring 
could  lie !  Here  was  the  actual  dream  woman  of  his 
youth  walking  down  the  stairs  right  into  his 
life. 

Mrs.  Howard's  appearance  was  quite  bewildering. 
The  quiet,  middle-aged  Boston  matron  had  vanished 
under  Anna's  skilful  hands.  In  her  place  was  a  slen- 
der, fair-haired  woman,  beautifully  gowned  in  a  most 
modish  pale  pink  evening  frock  with  a  transparent  lace 
petticoat.  The  gown  was  cut  daringly  low  and  had 
a  fascinating  little  slash  over  each  ankle.  Her  high- 
heeled  slippers  and  cobwebby  stockings  matched  her 
frock,  and  were  generously  displayed  as  she  walked 
down  the  stairway.  Her  hair,  so  lately  purchased, 
was  skilfully  and  charmingly  arranged,  and  a  superb 
aigrette  waved  above  it.  Her  jewels  were  priceless 
and  her  face  adorable.  Anna  was  truly  a  wizard. 
Mrs.  Howard  looked  scarcely  thirty  and  there  was  no 


62  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

question  about  her  beauty.  She  was  ravishing.  Mi- 
chael Doyle  stared  at  her  hungrily. 

Mrs.  Howard  turned  to  Mrs.  Brinton  with  a  radiant 
smile.  "  You  know,  Peg,  I  don't  know  which  is 
which." 

"  Suppose  you  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton  gaily. 

After  a  careful  glance  Mrs.  Howard  took  a  step 
toward  Michael,  who  stood  between  the  other  two  men, 
and  put  out  her  hand.  "  The  Irishman ! "  she 
said. 

Nothing  could  have  pleased  him  more.  He  fairly 
jumped  and  then  smiled  back  at  her  warmly. 

"  God  love  ye  for  knowing  the  brand,"  he  ex- 
claimed gratefully.  "  I  needn't  say  I'm  delighted  to 
meet  ye." 

Mrs.  Howard  glanced  over  at  John  Strong,  who 
stood  in  pleased  anticipation.  "  I  do  really  remember 
meeting  Mr.  Strong  ages  ago,"  she  said,  giving  him 
her  hand.  Strong  took  it  in  his  and  pressed  it  fer- 
vently. 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  met  you,  Mrs.  Howard,"  he 
beamed,  "  or  I  would  have  seen  you  again  long  before 
this." 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed,  "  Ellie,  you  must  admit  that 
my  tame  bears  are  well  trained.  But  you  have  one 
more."  She  turned  to  Dallas. 


THE  NEW  MOTHER  63 

Mrs.  Howard  stepped  toward  Dallas.  "  And  this 
is  your  Christopher  Dallas,"  she  said. 

Dallas  stood  looking  at  her  and  she  smiled  radiantly 
at  him  until  her  eyes  met  his.  Then  she  gave  a  little 
but  scarcely  perceptible  start.  Perhaps  she  felt  at 
that  moment,  as  he  did,  that  something  really  vital 
had  happened  to  them  both.  He  came  nearer  to  her 
and  put  his  hand  over  hers.  The  other  men  watched 
him  closely.  There  was  no  doubt  that  the  widow  had 
scored  with  all  of  them. 

"  Mrs.  Brinton  doesn't  want  me.  Why  not  your 
Christopher  Dallas  ?  "  he  answered  pointedly. 

John  Strong  pulled  up  a  large  arm  chair  and  Mrs. 
Howard  sank  into  it,  her  upturned  face  smiling  at 
the  three  men  as  they  gathered  around  her.  Dallas 
took  the  only  other  chair  near  by  and  sat  down  as 
close  as  he  dared,  while  Strong  and  Michael  leaned 
over  back  of  her,  determined  not  to  be  put  aside  for 
Dallas.  Mrs.  Brinton,  going  to  the  music  room,  and 
pausing  to  look  over  the  cocktail  wagon  to  make  sure 
Metz  had  brought  everything,  quietly  enjoyed  her 
old  friend's  triumph.  To  see  even  her  faithful  John 
fluttering  about  was  indeed  amusing.  Strong  leaned 
a  trifle  nearer  to  Mrs.  Howard's  charming  head. 

"  What  came  over  the  Brookline  men  that  they  ever 
let  you  get  away  ?  "  he  asked. 


64  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Mrs.  Howard  crossed  her  knee,  showing  her  pretty 
foot  and  ankle  recklessly.  Mrs.  Brinton  remembered 
the  threats  of  the  afternoon  and  turned  her  back  to 
conceal  her  mirth. 

"  I  ran  away,"  Mrs.  Howard  explained.  "  And  I 
ain  purposely  late  to  make  a  sensation." 

"  Don't  worry,  ye  made  it,"  Doyle  said  dryly,  his 
eyes  on  Dallas,  who  seemed  hypnotised  by  Mrs. 
Howard. 

"Who  is  to  make  cocktails,  Metz?"  asked  Mrs. 
Brinton.  "  It's  getting  late,  you  know." 

Doyle  walked  over  to  her.  "  And  ye  ask  it,  Marga- 
ret Brinton,  while  I'm  in  the  house  ?  I  hate  to  get  out 
of  practice,  for  some  day  I  might  need  to  earn  an 
honest  living  again." 

He  pushed  back  his  cuffs  and  took  up  the  shaker, 
glancing  at  Mrs.  Howard  and  Dallas,  who  were  whis- 
pering together  earnestly,  quite  forgetting  John 
Strong,  who  was  still  leaning  over  the  back  of  Mrs. 
Howard's  chair.  He  rattled  the  cocktail  shaker  to 
attract  their  attention. 

Mrs.  Howard  finally  noticed  Doyle  and  he  smiled  at 
her  warmly.  "  Perhaps  Mrs.  Howard  would  help 
me!" 

She  rose  and  went  over  to  Doyle,  followed  by  Dallas 
and  Strong. 


THE  NEW  MOTHER  65 

Doyle  took  up  the  j  Igger  measure  and  Mrs.  Howard 
watched  him  in  admiration.  "  I  would  love  to  make  a 
cocktail,"  she  assured  him,  "  if  you  would  show  me 
how." 

Doyle  deftly  measured  and  mixed  the  cocktail  with 
a  skill  that  even  Mrs.  Howard's  unpractised  eye  recog- 
nised as  professional.  And  as  he  did  so  he  told  her  the 
ingredients,  suiting  his  words  to  the  ice  and  liquor  he 
poured  into  the  shaker. 

"  A  mild  little  concoction  of  my  old  days,"  he  an- 
nounced. "  First  the  storm,  then  five  little  fellows  of 
good  gin,  and  two  and  a  third  little  sisters  of  old  ver- 
mouth, a  smile  of  orange,  with  a  swear  of  the  peel. 
And  last  two  tears  of  absinthe.  And  it's  yourself 
that  must  shake  the  mixture."  He  prepared  the 
drink  with  great  skill,  put  a  napkin  around  the  shaker 
and  handed  it  to  Mrs.  Howard. 

"  Dallas  realised  that  for  the  time  being  Mrs.  How- 
ard's interest  had  turned  to  Michael. 

"  I  call  this  cocktail  a  «  Sabbath  Calm,'  "  Doyle  ex- 
plained. 

Dallas  came  up  close  behind  the  Irishman  and  spoke 
into  his  ear  softly.  "  Michael,  you're  a  born  actor," 
he  said. 

Doyle  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  a  good  bartender 
gone  into  bad  politics,"  he  murmured  back. 


66  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

But  Mrs.  Howard  did  not  know  how  to  begin. 
"  Somebody  show  me  how,"  she  begged  prettily.  The 
men  all  started  at  once  to  help  her.  Doyle  put  one 
hand  on  top  of  hers,  and  the  other  on  the  bottom 
of  the  shaker  over  hers  again,  as  they  shook  the  mix- 
ture. Strong  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  held  it 
in  front  of  Mrs.  Howard's  frock.  Dallas  held  a  glass 
for  her  to  fill.  Laughing  and  smiling  she  shook  the 
cocktail  rapidly.  Mrs.  Brinton  lighted  a  cigarette 
and  stood  watching  her.  The  door-bell,  which  no  one 
noticed,  rang  and  Farrell  Howard  entered  before  Metz 
could  announce  him.  Mrs.  Brinton  saw  him  and 
threw  away  her  cigarette. 

Farrell  entered  the  room  rapidly,  carrying  his  hat 
and  stick  in  his  usual  stiff,  conventional  way.  Mrs. 
Brinton,  who  knew  him  of  old,  watched  him  nervously 
and  realised  that  neither  his  frivolous  mother  nor  her 
devoted  swains  had  even  noticed  his  arrival.  He  stood 
utterly  aghast  at  seeing  his  mother  taking  part  in 
such  revelry,  if  this  creature  in  jewels  and  satins, 
whose  hair  and  colour  seemed  to  him  to  have  some 
faint  familiarity,  really  was  his  respected  parent. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  just  about  to  speak  when  Farrell, 
who  had  been  gathering  his  scattered  senses  together, 
brought  his  cane  down  firmly  on  the  polished  floor 
and  ejaculated  in  horror,  "  Mother!  " 


THE  NEW  MOTHER  67 

It  was  the  first  intimation  she  had  of  his  presence. 
"  It's  quite  a  surprise  to  see  you  to-night,  Farrell, 
although  I  did  rather  expect  you  to-morrow,"  she 
said. 

Michael  removed  his  fingers  from  Mrs.  Howard's 
wrists  and  John  Strong  took  his  arm  from  about  her 
waist,  where  he  had  been  holding  his  handkerchief  in 
front  of  her  dress.  Farrell  gasped  audibly.  He 
choked  as  he  looked  at  his  mother,  a  radiant  vision 
of  youth  with  an  abandoned  smile.  She  didn't  even 
seem  glad  to  see  him.  She  evidently  was  quite  bored. 

"  You,  Farrell ! "  she  said,  and  she  did  not  even 
look  into  his  face.  "  Fancy  you're  coming." 

Farrell  took  a  step  nearer  to  her.  Words  would  not 
come  and  he  struggled  to  express  his  horror. 
"  Mother !  "  he  gasped,  "  I  hardly  know  you  —  I  — 
what  are  you  doing?  " 

His  mother  gave  the  shaker  an  extra  fillip  or  two, 
"  Making  a  cocktail.  Won't  you  have  one?  "  she  said 
sweetly. 

"  You  know  I  don't  drink  cocktails,  Mother !  "  He 
was  shocked. 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed.  "  Then  sit  down  while  we 
have  ours,"  she  said. 

She  shook  the  cocktail  again,  Dallas  assisting  her. 
To  poor  Farrell  it  was  all  like  an  orgy,  what  with 


68  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

the  lights,  the  gaiety,  the  men  and  this  strange,  fasci- 
nating female  whom  he  dared  to  call  by  the  good  old- 
fashioned  title  of  "  Mother."  He  put  out  one  hand 
to  stop  her.  She  couldn't  realise  now  awful  it  all  was. 
He  must  tell  her.  Before  he  could  find  his  voice,  Mrs. 
Brinton  took  pity  on  him,  and  introduced  him  to  the 
three  men,  whom  he  hardly  noticed,  so  intent  was  he 
on  his  parent.  Strong  and  Dallas  shrugged  their 
shoulders  and  returned  to  their  task  of  helping  Mrs. 
Howard  make  her  first  drink.  As  for  Michael,  he 
didn't  even  look  at  the  boy.  His  mind  was  too  full 
of  the  adorable  mother.  Mrs.  Brinton  took  Farrell's 
hat  and  stick. 

"  Is  mother  quite  well,  Mrs.  Brinton  ?  "  he  asked  in 
an  audible  whisper. 

Mrs.  Brinton  looked  at  Mrs.  Howard  with  sincere 
admiration.  "  Doesn't  she  look  it?  I  thought  I  had 
never  seen  her  looking  better." 

"  She  looks  quite  wonderful ;  but  not  Mother,"  he 
announced  frostily. 

Mrs.  Howard's  arm  was  tired,  and  she  paused  with 
a  little  sigh.  "  When  are  these  done,  Irishman?  "  she 
asked  Doyle  gaily.  "  This  is  very  much  like 
work ! " 

Michael  took  the  shaker  out  of  her  hands  and  re- 
turned her  smile  with  warm  interest.  "  Just  to  the 


THE  NEW  MOTHER  69 

frappe  now,  I  should  say,  and  I'm  sure  no  cocktail  I 
ever  drank  will  taste  like  this.  You  must  pour  them 
out  now." 

He  arranged  the  glasses  for  her  and  laughing  and 
jesting  they  finally  managed  to  pour  the  drink.  They 
were  watched  jealously  by  Dallas,  who  saw  already 
that  Michael  was  as  much  attracted  by  the  Brookline 
widow  as  he  was.  He  moved  closer  and  took  the 
tray. 

"  I'll  be  Hebe's  cup-bearer,"  he  said,  and  he  handed 
the  cocktails  around,  ending  with  a  polite  smile  at 
Farrell,  who  indignantly  refused  one.  Farrell  watched 
his  frivolous  parent  in  open-eyed  terror.  Surely  mad- 
ness had  descended  upon  her.  She  hesitated  a  sec- 
ond before  sipping  her  cocktaiL 

"  Oh !  drink  it  now,"  Michael  urged,  "  to  please  me 
and  to  celebrate  this  wonderful  occasion."  She 
laughed  and  took  a  taste  of  it.  It  evidently  pleased 
her,  for  she  drank  it  quickly. 

Michael  raised  his  glass  to  her.  John  Strong 
touched  it  with  his. 

"  Here's  to  — "  Strong  glanced  at  Farrell, 
"  Mother !  "  They  aU  smiled  but  Michael. 

He  shook  his  head.     "  I'll  not  believe  it,"  he  vowed. 

Mrs.  Brinton  realised  that  Farrell  was  almost  at 
the  breaking  point.  So  she  said,  soothingly  to  him, 


70  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Never  mind,  Farrell,  it's  the  first  one  she  ever 
swallowed." 

Michael  laughed.  "  After  this  one  it's  the  deluge, 
I'm  thinkin'." 

Farrell  grasped  Mrs.  Brinton's  arm.  "  I  am  sure 
she  is  not  well.  I'll  take  her  home,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Brinton  smiled.  "  You'd  better  talk  to  her 
about  it." 

Farrell  gazed  at  her  with  such  sorrow  that  she 
really  felt  for  him.  "  Please,  Mrs.  Brinton,"  he 
begged.  "  Do  let  me  see  Mother  alone."  She  nodded 
and  moved  over  to  Mrs.  Howard,  who  held  her  fingers 
up  before  Dal  with  an  enchanting  smile. 

"  They're  all  wet,"  she  said,  waving  her  hands. 
Dal  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  dried  them  affec- 
tionately. "  I'll  dry  them,"  he  murmured. 

Michael  watched  with  amusement.  Dallas  in  this 
mood  was  wonderful !  "  Don't  hurry  now,  Dal,"  he 
insinuated.  The  other  man  laughed  as  he  slowly 
went  over  each  finger. 

"  Go  away  and  stop  bothering  me,"  Dallas  warned. 
"  I'm  doing  this." 

Mrs.  Brinton  interrupted  hastily,  "  This  poor  boy 
wants  to  speak  to  his  mother.  Come  in  the  other  room 
for  a  moment  and  I'll  play  Michael's  favourite  waltz." 

Mrs.  Howard  seated  herself  near  the  window  a  trifle 


THE   NEW  MOTHER  71 

flushed  from  the  cocktail,  and  the  three  men  busied 
themselves  making  her  comfortable.  Dallas  opened 
the  window  and  Michael  fanned  her;  but  after  a  mo- 
ment John  Strong  moved  over  to  Mrs.  Brinton.  After 
all,  she  always  came  first  in  his  faithful  heart. 

"  Come !  "  Mrs.  Brinton  urged,  "  you  know  we  are 
going  out.  Do  let  Farrell  have  his  moment  or  two  !  " 
She  went  into  the  music  room  with  Strong. 

Dallas  turned  reluctantly.  "  I  won't  stay  long," 
he  declared,  with  a  hasty  and  amused  glance  at  the 
scowling  Farrell. 

Mrs.  Howard  waved  her  fan  at  him.  "  You 
needn't,"  she  said,  "  I  should  miss  you  too  much." 

Farrell  gasped  with  horror  while  Michael  took 
Dallas  by  the  arm  and  pulled  him  away.  When  they 
were  safely  out  of  earshot  by  the  music  room  door, 
Doyle  glanced  back  at  Farrell,  whose  unrelenting  back 
even  showed  displeasure  in  every  line. 

"  A  curtain  lecture,"  Doyle  whispered  in  Dallas' 
ear.  "  I  know  the  type !  A  good  young  man,  but, 
oh,  what  a  devil  he'll  be  at  sixty  !  "  They  disappeared 
into  the  music  room,  leaving  Farrell  and  his  mother 
alone. 


CHAPTER   VI 

UNDISCOVERED    COUNTRY 

MRS.  HOWARD  had  anticipated  Farrell's  early  ar- 
rival in  New  York,  but  she  was  surprised  to  find  him 
following  her  up  so  quickly.  She  had  never  known 
him  before  to  act  so  promptly  in  a  matter  without 
office  or  household  precedent.  His  presence  just  at 
this  moment  was  awkward  and  embarrassing.  But  the 
widow  was  determined  that  it  should  in  no  way  inter- 
fere with  her  evening  or  the  pleasures  she  saw  open- 
ing up  in  a  long  series  of  radiant  days  at  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton's.  Left  alone  with  her  son  for  the  moment  she 
maintained  the  gay  and  abandoned  manner  which  she 
had  put  on  with  her  new  gowns  and  her  false  hair. 
The  artificiality,  as  it  were,  had  gone  below  the  surface. 
Somewhat  airily  she  walked  to  the  table  where  her  bag 
was  lying,  extracted  a  vanity  box,  glanced  carefully 
into  a  tiny  mirror  to  see  if  her  new  beauty  remained, 
and  then  faced  Farrell. 

"  Mother !  "  he  cried,  "  have  you  lost  your  senses  ? 
Where  did  you  get  that  dress?     What  has  happened 

to  your  nice,  smooth  hair?     I  hardly  know  you." 

72 


UNDISCOVERED   COUNTRY          73 

Mrs.  Howard  turned  away  to  hide  her  laughter. 

An  ejaculation  of  dismay  escaped  his  lips  when  he 
saw  his  mother's  white  back  revealed  almost  to  the  line 
of  her  waist.  It's  beauty  was  lost  on  him  and  his  out- 
raged feelings  almost  choked  him.  "  Mother!  your 
back !  "  he  wailed.  "  You'll  —  you'll  catch  cold. 
You  don't  look  like  anybody's  mother !  " 

Mrs.  Howard  whirled  about  and  embraced  him.  "  I 
could  kiss  you  for  saying  that.  That  girl  is  a  good 
maid !  "  she  said. 

Farrell  started.  "  Maid  ?  When  did  you  get  a 
maid,  Mother?  "  he  demanded. 

Mrs.  Howard  patted  his  shoulder  reassuringly. 
"  A  French  maid,  Farrell.  And  she  and  I  are  going 
to  stay  here  until  Mrs.  Brinton  gets  tired  of  us.  That 
surprises  you,  I'm  sure,  dear." 

Farrell  sat  down  weakly.  "  And  what  am  I  to  do 
in  Brookline  all  alone?  "  he  asked. 

Metz  interrupted  them.  He  was  carrying  a  small 
bunch  of  flowers  wrapped  only  in  unattractive  tissue 
paper. 

"  For  you,  Madame,"  he  said,  giving  the  bundle  to 
Mrs.  Howard.  She  took  it  excitedly.  All  this  was 
so  new  and  she  was  loving  every  second  of  it.  Farrell 
rose  and  waited. 

"  For  me  ?  "  she  queried.     Her  fingers  trembled  a 


little  as  she  tore  away  the  paper.  She  found  a  bunch 
of  cheap,  vari-coloured  carnations  with  a  card  tied  to 
them. 

Farrell  watched  her  miserably.  She  seemed  to  be 
gradually  slipping  away  from  him.  Mrs.  Howard 
looked  at  the  flowers  in  amazement.  They  seemed  so 
poor  and  wretched  after  the  things  in  her  own  splen- 
did garden  in  Brookline.  The  card  read,  "  From  One 
Free  Soul  to  Another.  Amos ! "  She  laughed  mer- 
rily, realising  who  had  sent  the  flowers,  and  then  threw 
them  aside  carelessly. 

"Amos?"  Farrell  asked.  "Who  is  Amos, 
Mother?  "  Mrs.  Howard  paid  no  attention  to  his 
questions,  she  was  listening  to  the  waltz  Mrs.  Brinton 
was  playing,  and  to  the  murmur  of  the  men's  voices. 

"  What  a  divine  waltz,"  she  said,  taking  hold  of 
Farrell  and  trying  to  dance  with  him.  He  pushed 
her  away  stiffly,  and  gazed  in  horror  at  her  radiant 
face. 

"  Mother !  "  he  said.  "  Mother,  I  know  you  are  ill. 
I  thing  you  are  delirious  and  I  am  sure  you  have  fever, 
your  face  is  so  red." 

Mrs.  Howard  shook  her  head.  "  That  is  not  fever, 
it's  rouge.  Anna  thought  I  looked  too  pale." 

She  moved  her  body  in  time  to  the  waltz,  humming 
it  to  herself.  Her  inattention  was  even  more  trying 


UNDISCOVERED  COUNTRY          75 

to  Farrell  than  were  her  clothes.  He  looked  at  her 
helplessly. 

Finally,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  said,  "  Has  any- 
thing happened,  Mother?  Are  you  displeased  with 
me  and  are  you  trying  to  punish  me?  You've  never 
been  like  this  before  and  I  am  frightened.  I  couldn't 
bear  to  lose  my  mother.  You  know,  Mother,  I  think 
there  is  no  one  in  the  world  like  you.  I  have  the 
greatest  veneration  and  respect  for  you."  He  paused, 
quite  overcome. 

Mrs.  Howard  nodded.  "  Yes,  dear,  I  know ;  your 
father  had  those  sentiments  before  you.  I'm  rather 
tired  of  them !  They  are  uninteresting !  " 

He  sat  down  and  put  his  hand  to  his  head.  "  I  be- 
lieve I'm  asleep  at  home  and  having  an  awful  night- 
mare." 

Mrs.  Howard  resigned  herself  to  the  inevitable. 
She  saw  she  would  have  to  explain.  So  she  sat  down 
and  motioned  to  him  to  take  a  chair  near  her. 

Realising  that  time  was  flying  and  that  Margaret 
was  monopolising  the  three  delightful  men,  she 
plunged  ahead. 

"  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  tell  it  to  you,"  she  said, 
"  although  it  is  a  bore.  I  meant  to  write  it.  Now 
listen  attentively  and  let  me  preface  my  tale  by  assur- 
ing you  that  I'm  just  as  fond  of  you  as  I  always  have 


76  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

been.  You  are  a  most  dutiful  son  and  a  good  crea- 
ture, but  I'm  thoroughly  tired  of  Brookline.  The 
people  bore  me  nearly  to  death  and  I  even  want  a  little 
relief  from  you,  darling.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
live  the  remainder  of  my  life  differently.  I  am  afraid 
this  is  going  to  be  a  great  blow  to  you,  Farrell,  for 
you  hate  a  change,  but  you  will  have  to  make  up  your 
mind  to  have  a  changed  mother.  I've  mutinied! 
And  I've  wanted  to  do  it  for  ten  years.  I'm  not  even 
sorry  if  it  makes  you  unhappy,  so  you  see  how  un- 
regenerate  I  am.  When  I  get  tired  I'll  come  home 
again  and  I'd  love  to  see  you  whenever  you've  time 
to  come  to  New  York.  But  I'm  through  with  Brook- 
line  for  the  time  being  and  I  don't  know  whether  I 
shall  ever  keep  house  or  crochet  again." 

Farrell  gazed  at  her  in  consternation.  "  You  can't 
mean  it,  Mother !  "  he  faltered.  "  Not  keep  house ! 
It  would  be  too  terrible!  Oh,  I  want  my  mother 
back ! "  He  leaned  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  tears 
choking  his  usually  precise  voice  as  he  finished. 

Mrs.  Howard  smiled  affectionately  as  she  rose  from 
her  chair.  She  kissed  him  airily  and  he  got  up  in  a 
daze  and  took  his  hat  and  cane  mechanically.  He 
was  beyond  speech.  Mrs.  Howard  gave  him  a  little 
push.  She  was  impatient  to  have  done  with  this  an- 
noying domestic  interlude.  But  she  spoke  soothingly. 


UNDISCOVERED  COUNTRY         77 

"  Poor  Farrell,  it  must  be  a  blow  to  you,"  she  com- 
miserated. "  Pve  thought  of  it  so  long  that  I  am 
quite  accustomed  to  it.  Trot  home,  dear.  The  house 
runs  itself  and  you've  been  in  one  rut  for  so  long  that 
you  can't  possibly  stub  your  toe.  You  must  go,  Far- 
rell, we  are  dining  at  Sherry's  and  you  are  not  dressed 
to  go  with  us.  Still,  you  might  join  us  later." 

Farrell  shook  his  head.  "  I  shall  go  to  a  hotel  and 
return  here  in  the  morning  when  we  will  have  time 
to  talk  this  over.  I  haven't  been  so  disturbed  in  years. 
The  world  seems  upside  down."  He  turned  to  go. 
Then  he  paused  and  looked  hesitatingly  at  his  mother. 

"  Come  in  to  luncheon  to-morrow,"  she  suggested. 
"  We  can  have  a  chat  about  it  then  and  thrash  it  all 
out.  I'll  say  '  good-bye '  to  the  others  for  you." 

Farrell  was  moved  almost  to  tears  and  his  voice  was 
full  of  woe.  "  Good-night,  Mother.  Please  be  differ- 
ent to-morrow  —  and  Mother  — "  he  turned  gravely, 
"  don't  drink  anything,  you  know  you  are  not  used 
to  it.  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  to-night,  but  I'm  sure 
you  don't  care.  Good-bye !  " 

Mrs.  Howard  patted  him  cheerfully  on  the  back. 
"  Good-night,  little  boy.  I'll  keep  sober,  if  I  can !  " 
she  said  teasingly. 

Farrell  slammed  the  door  behind  him  with  a  ges- 
ture of  utter  despair.  Mrs.  Howard  did  not  even 


78  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

look  after  him  but  went  over  to  the  music-room  door, 
the  tail  of  her  gown  thrown  over  her  arm,  and  her 
body  swinging  to  the  music. 

"  Come  back  all  of  you,"  she  called.  "  My  furious 
offspring  left  good-bye  for  you." 

Dallas  and  Doyle  needed  no  second  invitation. 
They  came  out  in  great  haste,  each  ready  for  the 
game.  Dallas  put  one  arm  around  her  waist  and 
swung  her  into  the  waltz. 

"I  am  just  getting  my  foot  in,"  she  said  against 
his  shoulder.  "  I  haven't  waltzed  for  years." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  how  wonderful  you  are?  "  Dal- 
las whispered  in  her  ear.  "  They  have  no  right  to 
make  women  like  you  to  torment  us  poor  devils  of 
men." 

Mrs.  Howard  looked  into  his  laughing  face  with  de- 
liberate challenge.  "  You  love  to  be  tormented.  All 
of  you." 

Michael  stood  by  uneasily,  and  John  Strong,  who 
had  just  come  out  of  the  music  room,  eyed  him  in 
keen  amusement. 

Dallas  forgot  to  dance,  he  was  so  absorbed  in  look- 
ing at  Mrs.  Howard.  "  You  are  too  marvellous,"  he 
said  softly,  so  Michael  should  not  hear  him.  "  I've 
been  looking  for  you  always." 

But  Doyle  was  no  longer  to  be  denied.     He  took 


UNDISCOVERED  COUNTRY         79 

Mrs.  Howard  out  of  Dallas'  arms  into  his  own. 
"  You're  so  greedy,"  he  said  to  Dallas  over  his  shoul- 
der. Then  he  looked  warmly  into  Mrs.  Howard's  ex- 
pectant eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  the  steps  very  well,"  he  explained. 
"  But  I'm  hell  on  position !  " 

Mrs.  Howard  smiled  up  into  his  face.  "  Don't  ye 
believe  a  word  Dal  says,  Widow,"  he  admonished  as 
they  danced  about  the  room.  "  He  makes  love  to 
every  pretty  woman  he  sees." 

"  And  of  course,"  Mrs.  Howard  returned,  "  you 
never  make  love  to  anybody." 

"  Don't  I  though?  "  Doyle  returned,  giving  her  an 
affectionate  shake  as  they  turned  in  the  dance.  "  Ye 
know  better!  If  you  don't  I'll  have  to  prove  it  to 
you." 

John  Strong  interrupted  him.  "  Do  give  someone 
else  a  chance,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Howard  disengaged  herself  from  the  Irishman 
and  smiled  at  Strong.  She  pulled  a  rosebud  from  her 
corsage  and  held  it  out  to  him  just  as  Mrs.  Brinton 
stopped  playing  and  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  the 
music  room. 

"  John  doesn't  like  roses,"  Mrs.  Brinton  said  with 
a  swift  and  amused  glance  at  her  truant  suitor.  He 
turned  with  mischief  in  his  eye. 


80  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  But  John  likes  widows,  eh !  John  ?  "  Doyle  put  in. 

Strong  took  the  rose  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "  I 
do  like  roses,"  he  declared.  "  And,"  with  much 
warmth,  "  I  love  widows." 

Mrs.  Brinton  shrugged  her  shoulders  in  mock  de- 
spair. "  If  Ellie  won't  leave  me  one  man,  we  had  bet- 
ter start.  If  the  dinner  is  good  enough  Pm  resigned 
to  being  a  wall  flower."  She  rang  the  bell  for  Metz 
and  turned  to  speak  to  him. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Howard  flirtatiously  offered  a  rose- 
bud to  Doyle.  "  Will  you  have  a  flower,  Irishman, 
from  one  free  soul  to  another?  " 

Michael  grasped  the  rose  and  her  fingers  with  it. 
"  God  love  ye !  I'll  press  it  to  mark  the  day !  " 

Dallas  did  not  ask  for  one,  but  stood  looking  at 
her.  She  went  to  him  and  without  a  word  put  one 
of  the  little  roses  in  his  buttonhole.  Metz  an- 
nounced the  car,  and  brought  Mrs.  Brinton's  wrap, 
which  John  Strong  helped  her  into  tenderly. 

Dallas  and  Doyle  with  much  chatter  and  laughter 
picked  up  Mrs.  Howard's  gorgeous  evening  cloak 
from  the  chair  where  her  maid  had  left  it,  and  to- 
gether held  it  up  for  her. 

Mrs.  Brinton,  a  striking  picture  in  her  black  and 
white  cloak  with  its  soft  high  collar  of  white  fur, 
paused  to  say,  "  You  must  all  help  me  make  Mrs. 


UNDISCOVERED   COUNTRY          81 

Howard  happy.     I  want  her  to  stay  a  long  time." 

Dallas  leaned  forward.  "  I'll  do  my  little  best,"  he 
promised. 

Doyle  pushed  him  back  an  inch  or  two.  "  Don't 
ye  trust  him,  Widow !  " 

Mrs.  Howard's  cheeks  were  crimson  with  excite- 
ment. The  three  devoted  cavaliers  and  their  adula- 
tion had  gone  to  her  head. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  either  of  you,"  she  said  gaily. 
"  But  I'm  so  excited !  I'm  all  of  a  flutter !  " 

"  God  love  ye,"  Doyle  interposed.  "  Flutter  my 
way ! "  Then  they  all  moved  towards  the  elevator 
door. 

Dallas  paused.  "  We  can't  all  crowd  in  there,"  he 
said  to  Strong.  "  Mrs.  Howard  and  I  will  wait,  send 
it  back  up  for  us." 

"  We  won't  wait  long  for  you."  He  pushed  the 
unwilling  Doyle  into  the  elevator  after  Mrs.  Brinton 
and  then  got  in  himself. 

Left  alone  with  Dallas,  Mrs.  Howard  smiled  dar- 
ingly on  him.  "  And  now  ?  "  she  parried.  "  I'm 
sure  you  didn't  come  back  for  nothing.  Was  it  to 
try  some  of  the  Irishman's  blarney  ?  " 

Dallas  came  close  to  her,  and  looked  down  at  her. 
"  Do  you  know  I'm  jealous  already.  You  like  Mi- 
chael? " 


82  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  I'd  like  to  make  a  little  dent  in  Michael,"  she  re- 
turned teasingly,  "  just  big  enough  to  put  my  little 
finger  in." 

"  And,"  Dallas  asked,  "  what  about  me?  " 

"  Oh,  you  promised  to  play  with  me  and  teach  me 
some  new  games." 

Dallas  was  losing  his  head.  "  I'm  quite  mad  over 
you !  "  he  exclaimed  intensely.  "  Quite  mad !  Are 
you  a  witch?  " 

"  I'm  a  widow !  " 

"  They  tell  me  you  are  from  Brookline,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  But  I  don't  believe  it.  You're  from 
heaven !  And  Margaret  also  told  me  you  wanted  a 
playmate." 

Mrs.  Howard  raised  her  eyes  slowly  and  looked  into 
his.  "  Have  I  found  one  so  soon?  " 

Dallas  put  his  hand  on  her  arm.  He  was  quite  be- 
yond being  conventional.  "  Listen !  "  he  warned  her. 
"  Listen !  If  you  get  me  started,  be  it  on  your  own 
head.  When  I  play  I  play  hard,  and  you  —  you  — " 

Mrs.  Howard  drew  back  in  mock  terror.  "  Are 
you  warning  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

Dallas  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I'm  warning  myself, 
but  it's  no  use.  I  am  wading  in  deeper  every  second. 
By  to-morrow  I  will  be  in  over  my  head."  He  raised 
his  arm  high  above  his  head  to  indicate  the  depth. 


UNDISCOVERED   COUNTRY          88 

Mrs.  Howard  stood  on  her  tiptoes  and  looked  up  at 
him.  "  My,  what  a  tall  man  you  are,"  she  said  with 
utter  disregard  of  danger.  "  A  little  woman  would 
have  to  stand  on  a  chair  to  —  kiss  you." 

Dallas  made  a  sudden  movement  towards  her  but 
she  evaded  him.  "  If  I  were  only  sure  what  you  really 
wanted,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  you'd  get  it ! " 

The  elevator  came  back  and  stopped  with  a  slight 
rattle  which  recalled  Dallas  to  the  prosaic  fact  that 
there  was  a  dinner  to  be  attended.  He  smiled  at  Mrs. 
Howard  as  they  moved  towards  the  door. 

But  he  could  not  resist  a  last  word.  "  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  me?  Do  you  like  me?  " 

"  Aren't  you  undiscovered  country  ?  "  Mrs.  Howard 
asked. 

"  Perhaps,"  Dallas  said ;  "  but  city-broke." 

"  And  bridle-wise,  I  can  see  it  in  your  eye,"  she 
retorted  as  they  got  into  the  elevator. 


THE    VARIETIST 

METZ,  used  to  surprises,  as  must  be  all  good  butlers 
who  for  ten  years  have  let  people  in  and  out  of  the 
door  of  a  rich  and  eligible  widow,  nevertheless  was 
not  altogether  prepared  to  find  Amos  Thomas  ask- 
ing for  Mrs.  Howard  the  next  afternoon.  Metz  re- 
garded Thomas  as  a  freak,  a  curiosity  to  be  dangled 
before  a  woman's  club  of  an  afternoon.  Never  be- 
fore had  the  socialist  called  at  the  house  on  his  own 
enterprise,  as  it  were. 

But  the  philosophical  old  butler  swallowed  his 
amazement,  showed  Thomas  to  a  seat  and  took  word 
of  the  caller  to  Anna.  Mrs.  Howard  sent  the  maid 
down  to  say  that  she  would  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  socialist,  taking  careful  note 
of  the  maid's  pretty  face  and  the  curving  lines  of  her 
well-developed  figure.  All  femininity  was  fish  to  his 
unconventional  net.  "  What's  your  name,  my  girl?  " 
he  added  with  easy  familiarity. 

"  Anna  Merkel,"  she  replied. 

"Not  French,  then?" 

H 


THE  VARIETIST  85 

"  No,  Swiss.     All  French  maids  are  Swiss." 

"  So,  so,"  he  returned,  amused.  The  girl's  physi- 
cal charm  and  her  frankly  coquettish  air  interested 
him.  His  eyes  travelled  over  her  rather  hungrily. 
She  stood  the  scrutiny  with  composure  and  even  gave 
him  a  glance  which  showed  him  that  she  quite  under- 
stood him.  There  was  no  anger  in  her  gaze. 

"  You  know,"  Thomas  began  musingly,  "  after  all, 
the  only  vital  thing  in  the  world  is  that  mind  and  body 
should  be  sound.  Wealth,  power  and  position  are 
nothing  in  the  real  scale  of  things.  After  three  or 
four  centuries  the  only  important  question  is,  '  how 
good  an  ancestor  were  you  ?  * 

"  Ah,  messieur  is  a  thinker,"  Anna  smiled  archly 
and  Thomas  leaned  toward  her.  Just  then  Mrs. 
Howard  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  Anna 
scampered  away. 

If  only  Brookline  could  have  seen  the  widow  at  that 
moment.  In  her  smart  street  dress  with  fearfully 
narrow  skirt,  high  slippers  and  a  rakishly  tilted  hat 
she  looked  much  more  suitable  for  an  afternoon  at 
the  Ritz  than  in  the  Ghetto. 

"  Ah,  my  oasis ! "  exclaimed  Thomas  as  Mrs. 
Howard  gingerly  manoeuvred  her  way  down  the  steps. 

"  Don't  worry,"  she  said  reassuringly,  as  she 
clutched  at  the  rail  a  moment,  "  I'll  be  down  in  a 


86  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

second  if  I  don't  break  through  this  skirt."  As  she 
reached  the  bottom  step  she  held  out  her  hand. 
Thomas  grasped  it  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  She 
drew  it  back  with  an  amused  little  laugh. 

"  Mr.  Thomas,  you  are  so  ridiculous.  We  are  not 
so  fervent  in  Brookline." 

"  This  is  not  Brookline,  this  is  — "  He  looked  at 
her  with  rapture  — "  Elysium !  " 

She  threw  her  head  back  and  laughed,  tinklingly 
and  merrily,  just  as  she  had  laughed  when  she  was  a 
girl.  She  felt  that  she  had  really  found  her  youth 
again.  No  one  ever  had  made  such  a  fuss  over  her 
before. 

"  Whether  it  is  heaven  or  not,  Mr.  Thomas,  are 
you  ready  to  go?  And  do  you  know  just  where  you 
are  taking  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  taking  you  to  a  quiet  little  spot  where  soul 
may  speak  to  soul  unperturbed  by  the  harsh  discords 
of  man-made  harmonies,  where  only  a  few  simple 
beings  like  ourselves  are  to  be  found  in  dual  evasions 
of  this  sprawling  monstrosity  called  a  city." 

"  In  the  Ghetto?  " 

"  In  the  Ghetto,  my  Mrs.  Howard." 

"  Oh !  I  know  I  shall  love  it.  It's  all  so  quaint 
and  unusual  and  you  are  so  interesting." 

"  I  try  in  my  humble  way  to  please,  and  I  should 


THE  VARIETIST  87 

like  particularly  to  please  Mrs.  Howard."  He  waved 
her  gallantly  to  the  door  where  the  puzzled  Metz 
shook  his  head  in  a  perturbed  manner  as  they  passed 
out. 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  had  not  agreed  to  go  on  the 
street  car  with  you,"  sighed  Mrs.  Howard,  as  they 
reached  the  street.  "  It  means  walking  a  square,  and 
skirts  these  days  are  not  made  for  walking." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Howard,"  interrupted  Thomas,  a 
bit  put  out,  "  how  can  you  think  of  skirts  on  so 
glorious  a  morning  as  this  ?  Why,  the  world  is  throb- 
bing with  the  song  of  life.  It's  being  sung  in  every 
shrub,  bush  and  tree.  It's  a  day  of  divine  spring 
madness.  Let's  talk  of  wonderful  things,  let's  be 
gods,  not  mere  men." 

"  But  the  gods,  Mr.  Thomas,  had  no  garters." 

"  Now  you  interest  me." 

"  Mr.  Thomas,  do  be  sensible,  here  we  are  at  the 
corner.  Do  we  take  a  red  car  or  a  green  car?  " 

"  Some  day,  Mrs.  Howard,  your  common  sense 
will  come  between  us." 

She  laughed  merrily  as  they  walked  out  to  the 
crossing.  Thomas  fixed  a  motorman's  eye  with  an 
important  finger  and  in  a  moment  they  were  seated, 
two  items  in  one  of  those  curious  assortments  of 
humanity  which  make  up  a  street  car  load  in  New 


88 

York.  The  Socialist  with  a  characteristic  and  superb 
disdain  of  mere  environment  insisted  on  continuing 
his  extravagant  speeches  and  Mrs.  Howard  as  per- 
sistently attempted  to  quiet  him.  A  smartly  dressed 
woman  with  a  rather  unconventionally  attired  man 
always  is  conspicuous.  She  is  much  more  so  when 
he  insists  on  declaiming  to  her  of  "  life  and  love." 

After  a  time  they  took  a  cross-town  car  that  carried 
them  far  to  the  east  side  and  then  they  went  south, 
for  years,  it  seemed  to  Mrs.  Howard.  The  car  car- 
ried a  mixed  cargo  of  Russians,  Poles,  Austrians, 
Germans  and  other  north  Europeans,  all  more  or  less 
redolent  of  various  native  odours.  The  street  was 
full  of  push-carts,  itinerant  merchants,  pedlars  and 
lamentable  vehicles  drawn  by  decrepit  horses. 
Thomas  talked  volubly  of  it  all.  He  was  in  his  ele- 
ment. He  knew  an  anecdote  about  each  corner,  an 
amusing  comment  for  each  bit  of  polyglot  that 
dropped  on  the  fastidious  Brookline  ear. 

"  I  don't  mind  the  sounds,  so  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Howard,  gingerly.  "  It's  the  smells  that  bother  me." 

"  But  think  of  what  it  all  means  and  forget  how  it 
smells.  Here  are  the  free  souls  of  the  town.  Here 
love  is  not  bought  and  sold.  It  is  given  only  for 
love.  A  fair  exchange  is  no  robbery.  Here  have 


THE  VARIETIST  89 

arisen  many  of  the  great  and  beautiful  truths  of 
which  I  propose  to  tell  you." 

"  But  I'm  so  conspicuous  here  and  the  people  stare 
at  me  so.  I'm  afraid." 

Thomas  frankly  was  bored  with  her  for  a  moment, 
which  did  not  relieve  her  discomfort. 

"  I  wish  I  was  back  in  Peg's  nice,  clean,  fresh, 
pleasant  house,"  she  said  mournfully. 

"  Oh,  pshaw,"  broke  in  Thomas,  "  don't  be  silly 
and  conventional.  I  couldn't  stand  that  in  you." 

At  the  next  corner  he  took  her  off  the  car.  They 
went  down  the  dark  and  dirty  little  side  street  for 
three  or  four  doors  and  then  through  a  quaint  Euro- 
pean entrance  into  the  coffee  house.  Mrs.  Howard 
caught  a  blended  odour  of  cafe  and  cigarettes  that 
was  extremely  grateful  after  the  street  car.  She 
breathed  more  easily. 

The  room  was  not  large  and  it  was  dimly  lighted. 
There  were  a  dozen  tables  about  its  walls  and  at  sev- 
eral of  them  were  couples  deeply  engrossed  in  each 
other.  Everyone  was  smoking  and  the  waiters  seemed 
like  a  pale  wraith  moving  through  fog. 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Thomas,  beaming,  "  this  is  real ! 
This  is  LIFE !  " 

"  It's  better  than  the  car,"  agreed  the  widow,  "  but 


90  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

the  room  is  small  and  stuffy  and  those  girls  all  look 
as  if  they  had  consumption." 

"  Love  is  their  only  consumption,"  added  Thomas, 
as  he  nodded  to  two  or  three  people  who  passed  him 
a  careless  recognition.  But  no  one  stared.  Each 
couple  was  too  much  absorbed  to  pay  much  attention 
to  others. 

They  took  a  table  in  a  somewhat  secluded  corner 
and  coffee  came  accompanied  by  queer-looking  dark 
cake  on  which  Mrs.  Howard  looked  askance.  But 
Thomas  seemed  to  acquire  new  life.  He  glowed  and 
beamed  upon  Mrs.  Howard.  He  sighed  profoundly 
and  blew  huge  clouds  of  cigarette  smoke  into  the 
already  clouded  air,  or  gurgled  blissfully  over  each 
sip  of  black,  foreign-tasting  coffee. 

"  Mr.  Thomas,  who  are  all  of  these  people?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Howard.  "  They  really  look'  very  intellectual, 
even  if  they  are  badly  dressed  and  unhealthy." 

"  Call  me  Amos,"  he  urged,  with  amorous  unction. 
"  Let  us  not  be  the  only  hampered  souls  here." 

"  Very  well,  Amos.  But  you  mustn't  call  me  Ellie 
—  yet." 

"  I  shall  call  you  my  soul.  What  are  names  at  a 
moment  like  this  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  but  you 
are  very  funny  when  you  look  at  me  that  way."  She 


THE  VARIETIST  91 

laughed  heartily.  "  And  do  tell  me  about  these 
people." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  talk  of  other  people,"  he 
ob j  ected.  "  I  came  here  to  tell  you  all  the  things 
there  are  in  my  heart.  But  that  man  in  the  other 
corner  with  the  big-eyed,  dark-haired  girl,  is  a  noted, 
western  lawyer.  She  is  a  Russian  poetess  who  calls 
herself  Lydia.  She  is  a  true  varietist  and  the  lawyer 
is  her  variety  of  the  moment." 

"  Amos,  what  is  a  varietist  ?  " 

"  A  varietist  is  the  only  true  philosopher.  He  goes 
where  he  loves  and  when  his  love  is  gone  he  goes.  He 
is  nature's  idealist.  And  from  each  love  he  gains 
new  mental  power,  new  intellectual  ability  and  a  truer 
knowledge  of  poetry,  art  and  all  expression." 

"  Gracious,  would  you  win  a  woman  and  then  throw: 
her  aside  ?  " 

"  She  has  the  same  choice." 

"  Amos,  it's  —  it's  —  it's  not  nice.  I  don't  think 
this  is  any  place  for  me  to  be." 

"  Don't  be  stupid  and  unadvanced.  The  world  in 
time  will  accept  our  creed.  It  is  a  wonderful  creed, 
a  glorious  creed,  and  it  would  do  away  with  all  ills." 

"  Or  make  a  lot  of  new  ones." 

He  talked  on,  now  amorously,  now  egotistically, 
now  flambuoyantly.  Mrs.  Howard  was  greatly 


92 

amused.  She  laughed  when  he  became  desperate,  she 
smiled  when  he  glowed  over  his  theories,  and  she  was 
no  less  merry  when  he  wielded  the  rhetorical  sabre 
on  the  world's  helpless  institutions.  She  was  having 
a  very  good  time,  the  sort  of  time  she  had  never 
dreamed  of  having  in  Brookline,  now  a  thousand  years 
in  the  past,  somehow.  She  started  up  suddenly. 
She  remembered  that  there  were  other  things  to  do 
that  day.  She  had  engagements  with  both  Dallas 
and  Doyle  and  there  was  still  Farrell  to  be  faced. 

"  Pay  your  bill  like  a  good  soul  and  we  must  run 
along.  It  took  us  hours  to  come,  you  know." 

Thomas  began  to  beat  his  pockets  and  then  his  face 
fell.  He  made  a  careful  search  of  coat  and  trousers. 

"  Something,"  he  said,  "  is  going  to  happen." 

"  What's  the  matter?  Have  you  lost  something?  " 
she  asked. 

"  My  money  isn't  here.** 

"  Have  you  been  robbed?  " 

« I  think  not." 

*'  Oh !  you've  lost  your  pocket-book.  That  is  too 
bad." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Howard,  I'm  afraid  I  simply  forgot. 
I  simply  can't  keep  my  mind  on  my  money.  I  despise 
it  so  that  I  rarely  ever  carry  any  with  me.  But  I 
did  think  I  had  enough  for  this  little  bill." 


THE  VARIETIST  93 

"  Oh,  Amos,  how  stupid  of  you.  I  am  bored. 
Well,  thank  the  Lord,  I  always  have  enough  with  me. 
How  much  is-  it  ?  " 

"  Fifty  cents." 

"  Here  is  a  bill,  you  can  give  me  the  change  later. 
But  you  must  take  better  care  of  me  than  that. 
What  will  all  these  people  think?  They  certainly 
must  have  seen." 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  about  that,  Mrs.  Howard,  the 
women  usually  pay  the  bills  here.  We  advanced 
people  can't  be  expected  to  keep  our  minds  on  any- 
thing as  trivial  as  mere  money." 

Once  on  the  car  the  humour  of  the  situation  struck 
her  and  she  laughed  quietly  from  time  to  time  while 
Thomas  ranted  along  on  the  glories  of  the  untram- 
melled and  the  unconventional.  But  she  didn't  tell 
Mrs.  Brinton  about  it  when  she  had  gotten  back. 
Somehow,  she  felt  that  her  friend  wouldn't  find  it  par- 
ticularly amusing. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

HIGH    PRESSURE 

IN  Mrs.  Brinton's  scheme  of  existence  there  was  little 
exemption  from  public  haunt.  She  was  connaturally 
of  the  city  and  her  way  of  living  may  be  described  as 
super-urban.  Like  many  other  smart  women  of  the 
metropolis  she  was  peculiarly  the  result  of  the  simul- 
taneous appearance  in  the  world  of  a  new  order  of 
great  city  and  multitudinous  devices  for  speeding 
human  transportation.  She  and  her  twentieth  cen- 
tury sisters  of  fashion  played  to  a  much  wider  audi- 
ence than  did  their  Victorian  predecessors  and  with 
a  stage  ingeniously  appointed  to  economise  and  hasten 
movement.  Woman's  new  day  thus  enabled  one  to 
crowd  into  eighteen  hours  that  which  once  would  have 
exacted  a  fortnight. 

Mrs.  Howard  in  her  Brookline  backwater  had  not 
realised  this  increase  in  the  movement  of  the  human 
current.  And  her  previous  visits  to  New  York  had 
been  so  cursory  that  she  had  been  given  no  oppor- 
tunity to  put  her  foot  in  the  stream.  But  now  she 

was  about  to  be  swept  willy-nilly   into   the   rapids, 

94 


HIGH   PRESSURE  95 

though  she  had  no  realisation  of  her  precarious  con- 
dition. She  still  felt  that  she  was  a  schoolgirl  out  on 
some  sort  of  lark. 

Her  first  two  days  in  New  York  had  been  simple 
enough.  The  dinner,  the  theatre-party  and  supper 
which  followed  her  arrival  laid  no  tax  on  her  strength. 
It  was  all  fresh,  diverting  and  unhurried.  And  in 
her  first  series  of  engagements  with  Thomas,  Dallas 
and  Doyle,  Mrs.  Brinton  had  permitted  her  to  follow 
her  own  mind. 

On  the  day  after  her  visit  to  the  Ghetto  with  the 
Socialist  she  really  got  a  first  appreciation  of  the 
new  order  of  things.  Early  in  the  morning  she  was 
awakened  by  her  maid,  who  informed  her  that  Mrs. 
Brinton's  Lucy  had  just  brought  word  that  there 
must  be  prompt  breakfast  in  order  to  pave  the  way 
for  a  varied  day.  A  bit  later  Mrs.  Brinton  tapped 
lightly  at  the  door. 

"  Ellie !  "  she  called.  "  Can  I  come  in  for  a  mo- 
ment? " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  Mrs.  Howard  replied,  and  her  hostess 
entered,  a  fetching  picture  in  a  frilly,  pale-gold  dress- 
ing gown  which  set  off  her  dark  hair  and  brunette 
beauty  effectively. 

"  You  must  pardon  me  for  hurrying  you  so,"  Mrs. 
Brinton  began,  "  but  we'll  have  to  be  off  quickly  if 


96  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

we  are  ever  to  get  through.  I  want  to  take  you  with 
me  and  get  you  started  in  several  things  you'll  have 
to  learn.  You  know  you  told  me  that  you  didn't  do 
the  new  dances  and  that  you  couldn't  tell  one  card 
from  another." 

"  I  am  absolutely  in  your  hands,"  returned  Mrs. 
Howard,  looking  on  it  all  as  play. 

"  Very  well,  send  Anna  down  at  once.  Have  Metz 
bring  your  breakfast  here  and  meet  me  in  half  an 
hour.  I've  made  appointments  for  both  of  us  at  the 
hair-dresser's  at  9 :30  —  I  have  the  most  wonderful 
man  and  I  want  him  to  get  your  coiffure  just  right  — 
then  I  must  do  a  little  shopping.  Later  there  are 
the  club,  the  Tango  lesson,  and  the  meeting  with  the 
Oriental  Research  Committee,  and  we  are  lunching  at 
the  Ritz  with  Dal  and  John.  And  I  must  have  you 
see  my  new  portrait  at  De  Jourdain's.  This  is  bridge 
lesson  afternoon,  we  have  tea  at  the  Plaza,  the  men 
are  taking  us  to  dinner  at  Martin's,  and  we  are  going 
to  the  opening  of  the  new  revue  later.  And  for  sup- 
per we  will  show  you  one  of  the  cabarets." 

"  Oh,  my,  what  fun  it  will  be ! "  Mrs.  Howard  ex- 
claimed, her  eyes  bright  with  anticipation. 

"  I  do  want  you  to  divert  yourself,  dear.  You've 
led  such  a  dull  life.  But  just  now  the  important 


HIGH  PRESSURE  97 

thing  is  to  hurry.  You  will  be  ready,  won't  you? 
It's  so  necessary  to  get  a  good  start." 

Mrs.  Howard  promised,  and  Anna  bustled  about, 
getting  gown,  stockings,  hat,  slippers  and  gloves 
properly  matched  ready  for  their  putting  on  by  her 
mistress.  She  took  a  hurried  breakfast  from  the 
tray  which  Metz  brought  up,  the  repast  being  some- 
what the  more  speedily  encompassed  than  usual  be- 
cause Anna  chose  to  have  the  morning  begin  the  diet 
she  had  established  for  her  mistress.  Thus  the  widow 
was  deprived  of  the  poached  egg,  swimming  in  butter, 
which  she  had  had  year  in  and  year  out,  the  rich  cream 
which  she  was  wont  to  ladle  into  her  coffee  and  the 
jam  with  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  disguise 
her  toast.  She  submitted,  willingly,  realising  after 
two  days  that  her  new  clothes  were  going  to  be  a 
great  trial  unless  she  stripped  herself  of  some  flesh. 

The  dressing  was  not  without  its  trials,  but  Anna, 
who  had  learned  by  experience  to  get  the  mind  of  a 
mistress  on  some  other  thought  just  at  the  moment 
of  pinch  or  strain,  coaxed  and  cajoled  Mrs.  Howard's 
attention  away  each  time  she  reached  wincing  impa- 
tience. 

"  Anna,  you  are  wonderful,"  she  said  in  compli- 
mentary mood  as  she  stood  before  her  long  mirror  and 


98  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

contemplated  her  smart  appearance  with  a  thrill  of 
satisfaction.  "  I  should  never  have  had  the  courage 
to  essay  this  alone." 

"  Merci,  Madame."     The  maid  was  much  pleased. 

Promptly  at  9  o'clock  Mrs.  Howard  was  waiting 
in  the  reception  hall  for  Mrs.  Brinton,  the  latter  ap- 
pearing in  a  moment,  talking  all  at  once  to  Metz  and 
both  the  parlour  maids  in  an  effort  to  get  rid  of  all 
her  house  orders  for  the  day  as  speedily  as  possible. 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  she  wailed,  when  she  had  finished 
with  them,  "  I'm  sure  that  I  will  think  of  something 
before  we  have  gone  three  squares.  I  never  have 
gotten  out  of  the  house  yet  without  having  to  tele- 
phone back  a  forgotten  order." 

As  they  started  off  in  the  car  Mrs.  Brinton  strug- 
gled into  her  gloves,  stopping  now  and  then  to  search 
through  her  bag  to  be  sure  that  her  list  for  the  day 
was  complete  or  that  she  had  forgotten  a  card  or 
letter  she  wanted. 

"  Oh,  Ellie,  if  only  one  didn't  have  so  many  engage- 
ments or  so  much  on  one's  mind.  I  start  out  in  just 
this  mental  turmoil  each  morning  of  the  year.  Morn- 
ings are  hateful  things !  One  has  to  get  up  so  early 
to  accomplish  anything,  and  even  then  the  hours  flit 
by  so  quickly.  I  wish  there  were  half  a  dozen  of  me 
and  that  I  could  assign  myself  to  different  tasks.  I 


HIGH  PRESSURE  99 

should  so  like  a  shopping  self,  an  external  self  to  be 
coiffured,  massaged,  manicured  and  treated,  a  social 
self  to  make  calls  and  attend  functions,  an  intellectual 
self  to  take  in  the  lectures  and  committees,  and  finally 
my  own  inside  knowing  self  for  the  idle,  wonderful 
moments  which  I  can  only  snatch  at  now.  There 
are  times  when  I  wonder  why  I  ever  do  anything. 
Life  is  so  hurried  here  in  New  York.  We  live  it  on 
the  double  quick.  Each  minute  is  another  whip  to 
make  us  strain  harder  and  go  faster !  I  used  to  envy 
you  your  peaceful  Brookline." 

"  Peg,  you  are  talking  nonsense.  You  don't  mean 
half  you  are  saying." 

"  But  I  do  —  at  this  hour  of  the  day.  Of  course, 
I  won't  feel  this  way  in  the  afternoon  or  to-night.  I 
shouldn't  go  on  if  I  did !  " 

The  car  drew  up  at  a  fashionable  Fifth  Avenue 
hair-dressing  establishment.  Other  smartly  dressed 
women,  old,  middle-aged  and  young,  were  entering  as 
they  did. 

"  Peg,  are  you  sure  that  a  man  knows  how  to  dress 
a  woman's  hair?  "  Mrs.  Howard  felt  rather  uncom- 
fortable now  that  they  were  in  this  fearfully  modern 
place  with  its  pretentious  appointments,  its  palms 
and  rugs,  its  liveried  flunkies  and  trimly  dressed  ap- 
prentice girls,  its  heavy  air  and  its  oppressive  silence. 


100          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

The  little  rooms  into  which  the  women  disappeared 
after  being  conducted  there  by  a  pert  girl  in  a  short 
black  dress,  who  wore  extremely  high  heels  and  many 
more  white  bows  and  flounces  than  she  needed,  looked 
most  disconcerting  to  Mrs.  Howard.  She  was  greatly 
relieved  when  Mrs.  Brinton  went  in  with  her  to  her 
appointment. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  your  very  best  for  Mrs.  Howard, 
Barsoux,"  she  said,  addressing  the  pale-faced,  black- 
haired,  black-eyed  tenant  of  the  compartment. 
"  Now  you  understand,  of  course,  that  it  is  the  effect 
she  wants  and  don't  spare  hair  or  time." 

"  I  shall  do  what  I  can  for  Madame  Howard,"  he 
answered,  rapidly  gauging  her  style  and  colouring. 
She  removed  hat,  veil  and  gloves,  sat  down  in  the 
chair  and  then  was  left  alone  with  the  little  foreign- 
looking  dresser,  while  Mrs.  Brinton  went  to  another 
room.  The  widow  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that 
she  was  alone  with  a  barber. 

"  Will  Madame  loosen  her  collar?  "  he  asked.  She 
hesitated,  and  he  added,  "  Or  shall  I  loosen  it  for 
her?  " 

"  Oh!  "  she  cried,  much  perturbed,  «  I'll  do  it." 

He  adjusted  a  cloth  about  her  shoulders  and  then 
rapidly  circled  about  her  like  some  sort  of  curious 
bird.  He  would  stop  for  a  second  and  then  flit  to 


HIGH  PRESSURE  101 

another  position  for  a  new  view  of  her  head.  He 
then  attacked  Mrs.  Howard's  coiffure,  rapidly  wreck- 
ing the  effect  which  Anna  had  built  up  so  carefully. 
Then  he  stripped  away  all  of  the  widow's  false  hair. 

He  loosened  her  own  hair  and  subjected  it  to  severe 
scrutiny.  Mrs.  Howard  writhed.  No  man,  not  even, 
her  own  husband,  had  ever  done  that  before!  She 
could  have  shrieked  and  run,  but  she  managed  to  con- 
trol herself.  The  dresser,  however,  did  not  worry  her 
as  much  as  a  stalwart,  healthy  American  would  have 
done.  He  looked  so  like  a  monkey  as  he  circled  about 
her  that  she  did  not  seriously  consider  him  human. 

"  Will  Madame  leave  it  to  me  ?  "  he  asked,  after  he 
had  studied  her  to  his  satisfaction.  She  saw  no 
alternative.  So  she  submitted  as  gracefully  as  she 
could,  hoping  that  it  would  all  come  out  right. 

He  combed  out  her  hair,  took  iron  after  iron  from 
a  battery  of  flames,  then  rapidly  twisted,  rolled  and 
pressed,  putting  on  switch,  wave  and  soft  curl.  His 
work  was  marvellously  rapid  and  she  became  fasci- 
nated with  the  growing  impressiveness  of  her  head  as 
she  saw  it  in  the  mirror  opposite  her.  To  her  intense 
relief  the  manicure  girl  came  in  soon  to  work  on  her 
fingers  and  she  breathed  easy  again. 

Hardly  had  she  gathered  herself  and  her  belong- 
ings together  when  the  hurrying  Mrs.  Brinton  was 


102          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

at  her  door  to  see  if  she  was  not  ready.  In  a  moment 
they  were  flying  down  town  towards  the  big  shops. 
At  home  Mrs.  Howard  had  been  what  one  might  term 
a  conservative  shopper.  She  had  an  old-time  notion 
that  buying  was  a  deliberate  matter,  that  one  must 
both  weigh  and  wait.  She  marvelled  as  she  watched 
Mrs.  Brinton  go  along  the  counters.  Her  friend 
always  asked  for  a  certain  girl,  simply  told  her  what 
she  wanted  and  was  off  before  Mrs.  Howard,  in  her 
slower  way,  would  even  have  fixed  the  meandering  eye 
of  a  clerk. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  ever  get  served  so  quickly," 
said  Mrs.  Howard. 

"  My  dear,  I've  worked  long  enough  to  get  that  at- 
tention. I  always  make  it  a  point  of  going  back  to 
the  same  girl  and  at  Christmas  time  I  give  her  some- 
thing to  make  her  remember  me.  They  are  human 
beings,  you  know,  and  they  have  a  sense  of  gratitude." 

They  next  rushed  off  to  a  shoe  store  where  Mrs. 
Howard  struggled  with  slippers.  She  didn't  dare  buy 
them  half  as  big  as  she  wanted,  remembering  the  com- 
bat she  had  had  with  Anna  in  Boston  on  this  very 
point.  Women  were  buying  all  about  her  with  fearful 
recklessness,  many  of  them  imposing  youngsters  of 
handsome,  but  over-dressed  figures,  accompanied  by 
much  older  men. 


HIGH  PRESSURE  103 

"  I  wonder  who  they  all  are?  "  asked  Mrs.  Howard 
of  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  Isn't  it  extraordinary  for  men 
to  be  about  with  them  here  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  raised  her  eyebrows  and  smiled  know- 
ingly. "  Well,  Ellie,  you  are  naive,  aren't  you?  " 

Mrs.  Howard  noted  with  further  horror  the  unem- 
barrassed way  the  women  had  of  going  up  to  the  mir- 
rors at  the  side  of  the  room  and  drawing  up  their 
dresses  to  get  the  effects  of  new  boots  and  slippers 
with  their  hosiery. 

"  Rather  exciting,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  heard  one  of  the 
men  say  to  a  bored  young  clerk,  who  looked  up  and 
said  languidly,  "  Ankles  are  no  treat  to  a  shoeman." 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  worrying  about  time  again.  She 
was  fifteen  minutes  late  for  her  appointment  at  her 
club  and  she  was  not  used  to  Mrs.  Howard's  cautious 
buying.  The  slippers,  however,  were  adjusted  at 
last  and  the  pair  were  off  again. 

Her  first  view  of  a  club  entirely  devoted  to  women 
was  disappointing  to  Mrs.  Howard.  She  had  heard 
of  similar  places  in  London  where  the  women  sat 
about  tables  drinking  whiskey  and  soda,  smoking 
cigars  and  telling  stories  that  men  wouldn't  dare  tell. 
She  thought  she  had  never  been  in  a  quieter  place 
than  that  to  which  her  friend  had  taken  her.  They 
didn't  stay  long,  Mrs.  Brinton  having  a  committee 


104          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

meeting  in  a  nearby  studio  which  required  her  pres- 
ence. There  they  met  a  middle-aged,  remarkably 
dressed  woman  whom  Mrs.  Howard  had  read  of  as 
being  equally  devoted  to  theosophy  and  spiritualism, 
an  East  Indian  poet  dressed  in  a  Prince  Albert  and 
wearing  a  silk  turban  of  many  hues,  another  man  who 
evidently  was  French  and  several  women  who  seemed 
to  form  background  for  these  notables.  It  was  the 
committee  on  Psychical  Research  arranging  for  a 
series  of  lectures  to  be  delivered  on  "  Indian  Philoso- 
phy "  by  the  turbaned  poet. 

"  Oh,  dear,  I'm  not  going  to  be  able  to  stay  here 
at  all,"  apologised  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  But  I  did  want 
Mrs.  Howard  to  meet  Prince  Rajapore."  With  that 
she  said  hurried  good-byes  and  whisked  her  friend  off 
for  the  dance  lesson  at  one  of  the  fashionable  up-town 
hotels. 

"  Now,"  explained  Mrs.  Brinton  in  the  motor,  "  my 
teacher  is  Sylvester.  You  surely  must  have  heard 
of  him.  He  is  all  the  rage  here  now.  He  is  one  of 
the  chief  attractions  of  the  revue  we  are  going  to 
see  to-night  and  the  town  is  mad  about  him.  You've 
simply  got  to  learn  his  dances !  You  are  utterly  out 
of  it  if  you  can't  do  the  new  steps." 

"  But  I  haven't  danced  for  years,"  said  Mrs. 
Howard. 


HIGH   PRESSURE  105 

"  That  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference.  Everyone 
has  to  learn  all  over  again,  anyway." 

"  I  suppose  he  must  have  a  large  class,"  Mrs. 
Howard  volunteered,  with  mild  interest. 

"  Class?  My  dear,  he  doesn't  give  anything  but 
private  lessons  and  at  twenty-five  dollars  an  hour !  " 

"  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Howard. 

They  found  the  great  man  in  a  fair-sized  room  j  ust 
speeding  another  fashionable  pair  of  students.  At 
one  end  of  the  room  was  a  piano  where  sat  his  accom- 
panist, a  blase  young  man,  and  over  the  floor  there 
had  been  stretched  canvas  because  the  dancer  taught 
all  of  his  steps  for  performance  "  in  any  parlour." 
Working  with  him  was  his  dancing  partner,  a  lithe, 
graceful,  well-built  young  woman  whose  relations  to 
him  were  always  a  matter  of  much  speculation  to  his 
patrons. 

He  kissed  Mrs.  Brinton's  hand  in  the  foreign  man- 
ner when  he  came  over  to  her  and  smiled  charmingly 
for  Mrs.  Howard's  benefit. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  if  Mrs.  Howard 
could  see  you  and  Miss  Morgan  do  a  few  of  the  most 
popular  steps,"  Mrs.  Brinton  suggested.  So  they 
gave  the  Argentine  Tango,  the  simple  American 
turkey-trot  and  the  hesitation  waltz. 

Somehow  Mrs.  Howard  did  not  exactly  see  herself 


106          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

doing  any  of  the  steps.  Mrs.  Brinton  tried  the  tur- 
key-trot and  waltz  with  the  instructor,  steps  which 
she  already  mastered,  but  she  was  not  so  sure  of  the 
Tango.  She  could  start  off  easily  enough  but  she 
lost  the  figure  before  a  third  of  the  fifty  or  sixty  steps 
had  been  negotiated. 

Mrs.  Howard  had  wondered  how  Mrs.  Brinton  could 
possibly  dance  anything  in  her  narrow  walking  skirt, 
which  buttoned  tightly  up  the  front.  To  her  horror, 
her  friend  calmly  unbuttoned  three  or  four  of  the 
buttons  to  get  ease  enough  to  move. 

The  widow  sat  in  fear  and  trembling,  knowing  that 
her  turn  was  coming.  She  wanted  to  bolt,  but  that 
didn't  seem  altogether  feasible,  so  she  glumly  stuck 
to  her  chair  and  waited. 

"  Now  Ellie,  it's  time  for  you,"  the  breathless  Mrs. 
Brinton  announced  after  exhausting  herself  in  the 
attempt  to  unravel  the  complications  of  the  Tango. 
"  You  better  try  the  easy  things  first." 

"  Suppose  we  do  the  Turkey  Trot,"  suggested  the 
dancer,  coming  to  her. 

She  got  up  trembling.  She  looked  helplessly  to 
Mrs.  Brinton,  who  ruthlessly  ordered  her  to  action. 
Sylvester  stood  gracefully  waiting  for  her  to  take 
the  first  position.  He  started  and  she  staggered  up 


HIGH   PRESSURE  107 

the  inside  of  her  dress.  If  he  had  not  held  her  tightly 
she  must  have  fallen  face  down. 

He  released  her  and  by  himself  rapidly  ran  through 
the  first  few  steps.  "  See  how  easy  it  is,"  he  said. 
She  hadn't  seen  it  at  all  and  she  knew  it  wasn't  easy. 
But  she  took  firm  grip  of  her  skirts  and  resolved  to 
do  something  or  be  forever  disgraced.  They  struck 
out  again,  but  there  was  some  difficulty,  for  both 
went  different  ways.  The  fact  that  he  was  much 
the  stronger  was  the  only  reason  that  they  went  in 
the  direction  he  had  decided  on. 

"  Now,  it  is  this  way,"  he  objected  wearily,  going 
through  his  solo  again.  "  Come  here,  Miss  Morgan," 
he  called  to  his  partner.  Taking  her  he  began  to 
dance  slowly.  "  Come,  Mrs.  Howard,  start  off  beside 
us  as  we  go  along.  Try  and  get  your  mind  on  your 
feet  and  repeat  our  motions." 

They  went  about  the  room  once  or  twice  this  way. 
Mrs.  Howard  was  feeling  seven  different  sorts  of  a 
fool.  Looking  across  at  Mrs.  Brinton  she  saw  that 
usually  dignified  person  waving  her  hands  back  and 
forth  in  a  mirth  which  seemed  to  be  quite  beyond  her 
control.  She  stopped  firmly.  "  See  here,  Peg  Brin- 
ton, if  you  think  you  are  going  to  get  me  up  here  to 
make  a  fool  of  myself,  you  are  greatly  mistaken. 


108          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

But  I'm  going  to  get  this  thing  or  die !  "  She  pushed 
her  hat  down  and  went  at  it  with  desperation.  She 
felt  the  newly-acquired  wave  coming  out  of  her  hair, 
but  she  didn't  care.  "  Now  I'm  ready,"  she  an- 
nounced defiantly  to  the  instructor. 

"  It's  really  just  running  along,  instead  of  danc- 
ing," he  explained.  "  And  everyone  has  his  own  way 
of  doing  it."  Seeing  that  she  was  getting  the  spirit 
of  the  thing  he  went  along  with  her,  while  she,  now 
madly  excited  over  a  sudden  insight  into  the  idea  of 
the  dance,  was  going  through  the  steps  quite  oblivious 
of  all  else.  She  worked  at  it  until  she  was  breathless. 

"  Good,"  he  commented,  smiling  at  her  earnestness, 
"  you'll  soon  have  it." 

"  Now  for  the  Tango !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Well,"  he  warned,  "  we'd  better  wait  for  that 
until  next  time."  It  was  his  turn  to  look  alarmed. 

"  And  we  must  be  going  to  lunch,"  said  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton.  "  But  to-morrow  we'll  have  another  lesson.  I 
do  want  you  to  learn  the  *  hesitation  waltz.' ' 

Mrs.  Howard  smiled  a  trifle  grimly.  "  I  think  I 
shall  hesitate  a  good  deal  before  I  do  any  of  it,"  she 
said.  "  Are  you  sure  it's  necessary  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  Mrs.  Brinton  assured  her,  "  the  entire 
world  has  gone  mad  over  the  new  dances.  They  do 
them  at  all  the  afternoon  things  and  everywhere  one 


HIGH  PRESSURE  109 

goes  at  night.  I  have  even  been  asked  to  a  morning 
trot,  before  a  buffet  luncheon."  They  were  again 
in  the  motor  on  their  way  to  meet  Doyle  and  Strong 
at  the  Ritz. 

"It's  childish  and  undignified  at  our  age,"  Mrs. 
Howard  said.  "  I  wonder  you  do  it." 

Mrs.  Brinton  bent  forward  impressively.  "  Don't 
speak  of  age,"  she  cautioned.  "  In  these  days  no 
one  knows  how  old  any  woman  is,  except  herself,  and 
she  often  forgets.  Dignified  or  not,  it's  awfully  smart 
to  do  those  vulgar  dances.  And  one  must  be  smart, 
Ellie,  or  give  up  at  once.  You'll  get  used  to  it.  I 
was  horrified  at  first.  Sylvester  can  make  anyone 
dance,  he's  so  suggestive." 

"  Very,"  Mrs.  Howard  observed.  And  then  she 
and  Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  in  unison. 

The  Ritz  was  crowded  with  well-groomed  men  and 
smartly  gotten-up  women.  The  lounge  was  over- 
crowded as  it  always  is  at  luncheon,  and  Mrs.  Howard 
had  her  first  glimpse  of  the  modern,  fashionable 
society  woman  smoking  in  public.  All  about,  her 
sex  was  blowing  cigarette  smoke  in  the  air,  laughing 
and  chatting  in  groups  or  pairs.  Mrs.  Howard  was 
so  surprised  that  she  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes. 
Even  in  Brookline  she  had  friends  who  smoked,  but 
always  in  great  secrecy,  and  she  had  felt  they  were 


110          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

very  advanced.  Yet  here  in  this  beautiful  public 
room  dozens  of  middle-aged,  well-bred-looking  women 
were  puffing  calmly  as  if  it  were  the  most  ordinary 
thing  to  do.  Strong  and  Doyle  joined  them.  The 
men  were  filled  with  glee  over  stealing  a  march  on 
Dallas,  who  had  invited  them  all  for  dinner  and  knew 
nothing  about  the  luncheon.  Mrs.  Howard  kept  her 
blue  eyes  fixed  upon  Mrs.  Brinton's  gold  cigarette 
case  and  its  small  emerald  monogram.  It  swung 
from  her  wrist  with  her  gold  mesh  Bag  and  card  case. 
She  felt,  in  her  bones,  that  it  would  soon  be  opened, 
and  she  was  not  wrong.  Mrs.  Brinton  took  out  one 
of  her  own  dainty,  monogrammed  cigarettes  and  John 
Strong  lighted  it  for  her.  Then  with  her  silken 
ankles  crossed,  her  charming  face  animated  and  her 
graceful  body  resting  easily  in  one  of  the  large  wicker 
armchairs,  Mrs.  Brinton  proceeded  to  smoke  comfort- 
ably, for  the  first  time  in  this  strenuous  day  enjoying 
herself.  Mrs.  Howard  stared  at  her  in  sincere  dis- 
approval. It  so  amused  Mrs.  Brinton  that  she 
wickedly  leaned  over  and  offered  her  a  cigarette. 

This  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Howard.  "  Never," 
she  said  indignantly.  Amid  much  chaffing  and 
amused  comment  she  continued,  "  I  don't  see  how  you 
can,  Peg,  it's  so  masculine,  and  so  fast." 

"  You're  out  of  the  ark,  Ellie,"  retorted  Mrs.  Brin- 


HIGH  PRESSURE  111 

ton.  "  Wait  until  you  learn."  But  Mrs.  Howard 
shook  her  head.  She  was  firmly  resolved  never  to  do 
that.  They  had  a  delightful  and  most  expensive 
luncheon,  with  a  cocktail  to  precede  it,  and  a  dry 
champagne  later.  It  was  most  interesting  to  Mrs. 
Howard  to  hear  Michael  Doyle  give  the  luncheon 
order,  he  seemed  so  full  of  new  suggestions.  Mrs. 
Howard's  own  idea  of  a  nice  luncheon  was  grape  fruit, 
bouillon,  lamb  chops  with  green  peas,  or  broiled 
chicken,  tomato  salad  and  ice  cream  and  cake.  She 
had  eaten  many  of  them  with  perhaps  a  variation  of 
vegetable  or  salad;  but  the  edibles  that  the  Irishman 
so  trippingly  reeled  off  his  tongue  were  quite  new 
to  her.  "  A  Catawba  iced,"  he  said  to  the  deferential 
head  waiter,  who  came  himself  to  take  the  order, 
"  mushroom  Puree  and  oyster  crabs,  Maryland  — 
broiled  guinea  and  asparagus  Hollandaise,  with  an 
endive  and  Rochefort  salad,  baked  Alaska  and  coffee, 
the  champagne  very  dry, —  and  an  Ideal  cocktail  to 
begin  with."  Mrs.  Howard  took  it  all  thankfully. 
The  Irishman  knew  how  to  eat,  that  was  evident. 

After  luncheon  she  hoped  that  Mrs.  Brinton  would 
suggest  going  home  for  a  rest,  but  such  an  idea  was 
far  from  the  mind  of  that  tireless  lady.  They  mo- 
tored in  the  park  for  an  hour,  Mrs.  Brinton,  fortified 
by  her  excellent  luncheon,  being  in  holiday  humour. 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Doyle  and  Strong  entertained  them  with  a  wit  and 
charm  Mrs.  Howard  found  delightful. 

They  left  the  park  to  go  to  De  Jourdain's  studio 
to  view  Mrs.  Brinton's  portrait.  The  artist  had  just 
finished  it  and  was  sending  it  off  somewhere  to  be 
hung.  This  was  the  most  peaceful  moment  of  Mrs. 
Howard's  day,  and  she  sank  gladly  into  a  low  chair 
in  the  warmly  lighted  studio,  with  its  artistic  semi- 
disorder  and  its  beautiful  old  belongings. 

The  portrait  was  very  startling  and  wonderfully 
effective.  John  Strong  was  so  infatuated  with  it 
that  he  whispered  to  Mrs.  Brinton  that  he  must 
have  it  copied  for  himself,  for  which  she  chided  him 
firmly,  but  smiled  at  him  with  delight.  Michael  said 
he  knew  very  little  about  it,  but  insisted  the  portrait 
did  not  do  Mrs.  Brinton  justice.  No  portrait  could, 
he  maintained.  De  Jourdain,  tall,  slim  and  romantic 
in  his  velvet  coat  and  loose  tie,  his  wavy  hair  falling 
about  his  eyes,  and  his  tiny,  upturned  moustache, 
smiled  wearily.  What  difference  did  any  of  it  make  to 
him?  Mrs.  Brinton  had  paid  him  three  thousand  dol- 
lars for  the  picture  and  he  had  skilfully  contrived  to 
make  a  smart,  middle-aged,  attractive  woman  look  like 
a  young  siren  with  vampirish  tendencies ;  and  withal 
preserve  an  extraordinary  likeness.  He  felt  he  had 
done  his  share.  And  Mrs.  Brinton  adored  the  por- 


HIGH  PRESSURE  113 

trait.  She  looked  so  young  and  slim  in  it.  But  Mrs. 
Howard  thought  it  was  uncanny.  She  gazed  at  it 
dumbly.  It  revealed  Mrs.  Brinton  in  a  daringly  low- 
cut,  black-satin  evening  frock,  the  skirt  wrapped 
closely  about  her  ankles.  She  stood  with  her  back 
to  a  long  mirror  in  which  her  white  shoulders  and 
the  long  line  of  gown  and  body  were  reproduced  faith- 
fully. In  her  fingers  she  held  a  single,  deep-red  rose, 
and  about  her  and  over  one  arm  and  shoulder  was  a 
thin,  transparent  scarlet  drapery.  Her  hair,  black 
as  coal,  was  low  over  her  brows  and  her  dark  eyes 
shone  languorously  out  of  an  ivory  white  face  which 
had  no  touch  of  colour  but  the  vivid  scarlet  of  the 
lips.  She  looked  twenty  pounds  slighter,  twenty 
years  younger  and  countless  degrees  more  ardent. 
The  artist  had  painted  her  as  she  might  have  been 
at  twenty-five  if  she  had  been  born  in  Italy  or  Spain. 
She  looked  out  of  his  canvas  with  subtle,  unholy 
charm  and  Mrs.  Howard  hated  the  whole  portrait. 
It  was  not  Peg,  this  vampire! 

They  really  did  manage  to  get  away  and  then  lost 
Doyle  and  Strong  while  they  went  to  look  at  hats  and 
later  to  take  a  bridge  lesson,  but  only  after  promising 
that  they  would  meet  them  again  at  five  for  tea  at 
the  Plaza. 

"  Don't  they  ever  work?  "  Mrs.  Howard  asked  as 


114.          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

she  and  Mrs.  Brinton  motored  off  alone.  Her  friend 
still  was  dwelling  lovingly  on  her  portrait  which  she 
was  quite  mad  over,  because  she  looked  so  seductive 
and  foreign.  "  Eh?  "  she  asked,  absent-mindedly. 

Mrs.  Howard  repeated  her  question.  "  I  suppose 
so,"  Mrs.  Brinton  said  vaguely.  "  But  I'm  not  sure 
when.  John  always  spends  a  part  of  each  day  with 
me,  and  of  course,  Michael  has  let  everything  else  go 
because  he  is  so  wild  over  you." 

"  Do  you  really  think  he  is,  Peg?  "  Mrs.  Howard 
asked  in  delighted  surprise ;  "  already  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed.  "  I've  never  seen  him  so 
devoted.  And  Dal,  too.  They  both  broke  engage- 
ments for  to-night.  Jack  told  me  so.  You  are  won- 
derful, Ellie!  We've  always  considered  them  im- 
mune ! " 

Mrs.  Howard  flushed  like  a  girl.  The  joy  of  con- 
quest was  in  her  soul  and  she  could  hardly  wait  for 
tea  time  to  arrive. 

It  wasn't  so  difficult  to  purchase  a  hat  as  to  buy 
shoes.  For  at  least  hats  did  not  hurt  one.  And  as 
the  clever  Frenchwoman,  to  whom  Mrs.  Brinton  took 
her,  put  each  new  creation  on  her  beautifully  dressed 
blonde  head,  Mrs.  Howard  looked  at  herself  with 
infinite  satisfaction.  How  different  one  did  look  in 
smart  hats.  The  prices  were  a  bit  staggering  to  her, 


HIGH  PRESSURE  115 

but  Mrs.  Brinton  evidently  was  used  to  it,  for  she 
told  Madame  that  they  only  wanted  some  simple  little 
things,  nothing  elaborate.  She  herself  bought  a  dar- 
ing black  toque  with  a  huge  martyred  bird  hanging 
off  its  narrow  brim,  and  a  brown  straw  smothered  in 
yellow  and  purple  pansies.  These  two  trifles  cost  only 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Mrs.  Howard  meekly 
invested  in  a  black  tulle  wisp  with  one  standing  plume 
set  riotously  at  variance  with  all  laws  of  gravitation ; 
and  a  mauve  walking  hat,  with  some  saucy  wings 
tucked  over  one  ear ;  and  she  did  not  murmur  at  their 
eating  up  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars,  so 
eager  was  she  to  follow  Mrs.  Brinton's  lead. 

The  bridge  lesson,  which  was  given  at  the  house 
of  a  smart  friend  of  Mrs.  Brinton's,  was  a  very  har- 
rowing hour.  Mrs.  Howard,  who  had  a  vague  idea 
of  whist,  made  a  fearful  muddle  of  the  newer  game. 
Her  brain  could  not  seem  to  grasp  its  rules  and  regu- 
lations, and  she  grew  so  frightened  over  her  continued 
mistakes  that  she  had  a  nervous  chill.  The  bridge 
teacher  told  her  the  same  thing  over  and  over  with 
honied,  irritating  patience ;  her  monotonously  pleasant 
voice  sounding  a  continuous  stream  of  instructive 
admonition  in  Mrs.  Howard's  ear.  The  other  women, 
bored,  yawning  and  annoyed  beyond  measure  at  her 
stupidity,  made  audible  remarks  about  her  dulness 


116          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

and  laughed  sarcastically  at  her  mistakes.  They 
puffed  smoke  into  her  face,  and  insulted  her  by  each 
look  and  smile.  With  her  cards  grasped  limply  in 
her  trembling  fingers;  her  face  white  and  her  brows 
knit  in  a  vain  attempt  to  remember  the  words  of  the 
bridge  teacher,  poor  Mrs.  Howard  glanced  furtively 
about  like  a  detected  criminal  who  knows  he  is  being 
watched.  Mrs.  Brinton  regarded  her  helplessly  when 
they  rose,  and  with  a  hasty  adieu  or  two  she  fairly 
dragged  Mrs.  Howard  away.  Mrs.  Howard  leaned 
back  in  the  motor  with  closed  eyes,  utterly  spent. 
She  felt  as  if  she  had  been  beaten  with  clubs,  spades 
and  all  the  other  implements  there  were.  After  a 
faint  effort  to  look  annoyed,  Mrs.  Brinton's  sense  of 
humour  came  to  her  rescue.  After  one  look  at  Mrs. 
Howard's  pale,  drawn  face  and  the  modish  hat  tipped 
over  one  eye  as  she  rested  her  weary  head  against  the 
cushions,  Mrs.  Brinton  burst  into  a  gale  of  merri- 
ment. 

"  Oh,  Ellie !  "  she  gasped.  "  Where  did  you  ever 
play  cards?  I  have  never  seen  anything  so  awful! 
Those  women  will  never  forgive  me !  They  are  bridge 
fiends!  I  am  afraid  we'll  have  to  leave  cards  out  of 
it.  The  Lord  didn't  give  you  card  sense,  dear,  and 
we'll  let  it  go  at  that.  But  you  were  so  funny!" 
She  fairly  cried  with  amusement. 


HIGH  PRESSURE  117 

Mrs.  Howard  opened  her  eyes  wearily.  "  If  you 
ever  take  me  to  that  place  again,"  she  said  faintly, 
"  I'll  go  home  to  Brookline  — " 

Tea  was  a  merciful  relief.  Doyle  and  Strong  met 
them  at  the  hotel,  this  time  with  Dallas,  who  had 
found  them  at  the  club  and  wormed  out  of  them  what 
they  were  up  to. 

Sitting  between  the  Irishman  and  Christopher 
Dallas,  Mrs.  Howard  forgot  that  there  was  such  a 
thing  as  bridge.  They  made  love  to  her  openly  and 
persistently  and  with  a  skill  and  facility  that  was 
delightful  to  contemplate.  The  tea  room  was  filled 
with  groups  of  men  and  women,  the  music  delighted 
her  and  a  sense  of  peace  stole  over  her  humiliated 
spirit.  At  least  men  appreciated  her.  Then  the 
party  went  to  Mrs.  Brinton's.  The  men  refused  to 
go  until  Doyle  had  made  a  cocktail.  When  they 
finally  departed,  it  was  six-thirty,  leaving  Mrs. 
Howard  and  Mrs.  Brinton  a  scant  hour  to  dress  and 
prepare  for  dinner.  Rest  was  never  mentioned.  It's 
a  word  New  York  doesn't  know  very  intimately. 
Dinner  at  Martin's  was  to  the  widow  a  gorgeous 
function.  In  the  party  they  found  the  three  devoted 
men  and  Mrs.  Jimmy  Brent,  a  charming  divorcee,  and 
a  great  friend  of  Mrs.  Brinton's. 

Mrs.  Howard,  wonderfully  dressed  in  a  black  and 


118  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

silver  evening  gown,  in  which  her  fairness  seemed 
even  more  lovely  than  on  the  evening  before,  a  silver 
wreath  in  her  blonde  hair,  and  with  daring,  long 
scintillating  earrings  moving  with  each  turn  of  her 
head,  was  the  life  of  the  party.  Dal  was  infatuated 
and  hung  on  her  words,  and  Doyle's  eyes  rested  on 
the  widow  warmly.  He  had  quite  lost  his  head. 

Later  Mrs.  Howard  was  as  delighted  as  a  child 
when  she  beheld  Sylvester  and  his  dancing  partner 
do  wonderful  things  at  the  theatre.  And  then  she 
was  filled  with  excitement  over  supper  at  Reisen- 
werber's,  where  she  sat  in  the  narrow  upstairs  restau- 
rant, her  food  untasted,  while  she  watched  with 
fascinated  eyes  the  dancers  doing  the  steps  Sylvester 
had  tried  to  teach  her.  Truly  they  seemed  quite  sim- 
ple as  she  looked  at  them.  Mrs.  Brinton  would  not 
dance,  not  being  at  all  sure  of  her  own  proficiency, 
but  Mrs.  Jimmy  Brent  and  Michael  were  a  great  suc- 
cess, and  did  the  Tango  with  joy  and  much  energy. 
Mrs.  Howard  vowed  she  would  never  rest  until  she, 
too,  could  dance  with  him  in  that  enchanting  manner. 
And  she  felt  quite  at  ease  about  her  feet  and  ankles, 
which  she  realised  would  be  much  in  view.  They 
were  much  better  than  Mrs.  Jimmy  Brent's. 

They  went  home  at  2:30  in  the  morning,  Mrs. 
Howard  with  Dallas  in  his  own  car,  while  Doyle  and 


HIGH  PRESSURE  119 

Strong  and  Mrs.  Brinton  took  Mrs.  Brent  to  her 
house. 

Dallas  told  the  widow  good-night  lingeringly  and 
adoringly,  after  making  two  engagements  for  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Mrs.  Brinton  returned  just  as  he  was 
going  and  then  the  two  women  went  up  the  stairs 
together.  Mrs.  Howard  collapsed  on  a  couch,  while 
Mrs.  Brinton  rang  for  Anna  and  Lucy. 

"Tired,  Ellie?"  she  asked  affectionately.  "I 
suppose  it  has  been  a  strenuous  day,  but  you'll  get 
used  to  it."  Mrs.  Howard  gazed  at  her  limply.  She 
was  beyond  speech. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    CUB    GROWLS 

MRS.  HOWARD  quickly  fitted  into  the  gay  whirl  which 
circled  about  Mrs.  Brinton.  She  spent  eighteen 
hours  a  day  going  or  getting  ready  to  go.  When 
she  wasn't  off  with  one  of  her  cavaliers  or  enjoying 
herself  at  one  of  the  endless  Brinton  functions,  she 
was  ceaselessly  preparing  for  the  fray.  It  isn't  an 
easy  matter  for  a  woman  who  has  lived  simply  all 
her  life  to  keep  "  up,"  as  Mrs.  Brinton  described 
the  grooming  and  preparation.  The  rejuvenated 
widow  paid  high  price  for  her  youthful  face  and 
figure. 

But  she  was  so  enjoying  herself  that  she  was 
thoroughly  willing  to  undergo  any  amount  of  sar- 
torial torture  for  the  time  being.  She  swept  merrily 
along  the  gay  pathway  of  her  new  life,  revelling  in 
the  novel  experience  of  having  three  interesting  men 
devoted  to  her.  As  yet  she  had  not  asked  herself  for 
which  she  cared  most.  Thomas,  the  Socialist,  di- 
verted her  extremely,  though  she  had  not  the  slightest 

real  affection  for  him.     His  absurd  egotism,  his  con- 

120 


THE   CUB   GROWLS 

centration  on  the  amatory  matter  in  hand,  and  his 
affected  indifference  to  society  and  its  ways  never 
failed  to  amuse  her.  Doyle  was  to  be  taken  more 
seriously.  He  was  always  real.  There  was  no  affec- 
tation about  him  and  he  had  a  direct  Celtic  way  of 
revealing  his  affection  that  appealed  keenly  to  the 
widow.  But  he  often  trespassed,  trusting  to  a  ready 
wit  and  a  quick  adaptability  to  save  the  situation. 

Dallas,  on  the  other  hand,  had  everything  the 
other  men  lacked, —  breeding,  born  ease,  an  almost 
old-world  courtesy  and  chivalry  and  the  greatest 
personal  charm  of  all.  He  was  big,  solid  and  satis- 
fying and  infinitely  more  to  be  relied  on  than  Doyle. 
And  always  there  was  his  graceful  consideration, 
which  meant  that  her  comfort  and  her  happiness  were 
ever  his  first  thought.  But  she  didn't  want  to  lose 
any  of  it  all  by  showing  a  preference  now.  She  sim- 
ply desired  to  go  on  living! 

Farrell  continued  to  be  troublesome.  He  had  not 
been  satisfied  at  all  in  his  talk  with  his  mother  on 
the  day  after  his  arrival  in  New  York.  Now,  three 
or  four  weeks  later,  he  was  back  in  New  York  fret- 
ting and  fussing  because  she  wouldn't  return  to 
Brookline  with  him.  For  the  first  timfe  in  his  mature 
life  he  was  unable  to  keep  steadily  to  the  ways  of 
habit.  And  off  those  paths  he  was  ever  irritable 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

and  unhappy.  On  this  bright  spring  morning  he 
entirely  ignored  a  smiling  nature  and  all  of  her  allure- 
ments and  hastened  from  his  hotel  to  Mrs.  Brinton's. 
Metz  informed  him  that  his  mother  was  out. 

"  I  will  go  up  to  her  sitting-room  and  wait  for 
her,"  the  young  man  said  with  sour  severity. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  returned  Metz.  "  I'll  tell  her 
you  are  there  when  she  comes  back." 

Farrell  walked  very  precisely  and  primly  up  the 
stairs.  He  didn't  altogether  approve  of  his  mother's 
sitting-room  in  the  Brinton  apartment.  It  was  much 
too  dainty  and  attractive  to  be  altogether  wholesome, 
he  thought,  and  besides  it  opened  into  her  bedroom. 
And  his  mother  had  a  way  of  seeing  her  friends 
there  which  grieved  him  more  deeply  still.  But  even 
he  felt  that  the  room  brightened  existence.  Still,  he 
wasn't  sure  that  existence  ought  to  be  bright. 

He  was  particularly  depressed  to-day  because  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  he  had  been  hearing  his 
mother  discussed  publicly  by  men  and  in  a  rather 
unpleasant  way.  At  the  college  club  where  he 
usually  put  up  when  in  New  York,  he  had  heard 
a  party,  talking  familiarly  of  various  women,  finally 
mention  his  mother's  name.  The  men  evidently  were 
acquaintances  of  Dallas,  Doyle  and ,  Strong.  They 
talked  over  her  "  conquest  "  of  Dallas  and  Doyle. 


THE  CUB  GROWLS  123- 

Dallas,  he  gathered,  had  been  considered  immune  from 
feminine  influence  previously,  so  his  affair  with  the 
widow  was  regarded  somewhat  as  a  seven  day  phe- 
nomenon. Doyle,  however,  was  classed  as  a  pro- 
fessional philanderer,  but  as  such  the  men  seemed 
to  think  that  he  might  be  able  to  beat  his  rival. 

This  had  given  Farrell  a  turn  from  which  he  was 
still  suffering.  He  had  been  of  a  mind  to  walk  up 
to  the  group,  make  himself  known,  and  then  express 
vigorously  and  firmly  his  opinion  of  individuals  who 
had  no  better  occupation  than  to  discuss  helpless 
women  in  the  utterly  worldly  precincts  of 
clubdom. 

But  he  had  restrained  himself,  feeling  that  it  would 
be  better  to  see  his  mother  and  to  persuade  her,  if 
possible,  to  be  more  discreet  in  accepting  the  atten- 
tions of  New  York  men.  So  he  awaited  her  impa- 
tiently. 

As  he  opened  the  door  leading  from  the  hall  he 
stepped  in  gingerly.  He  sniffed  at  the  gentle  and 
ladylike  atmosphere,  he  blinked  at  the  bright,  immac- 
ulate walls  with  their  tiny  and  colourful  miniatures, 
he  deplored  the  careful  harmony  of  the  curtains. 
Opposite  him  was  the  open  door  of  his  mother's 
bedroom,  where  Anna  was  stirring  about  amid  some 
laces  and  frills.  He  started  at  the  sight  of  a  won- 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

derfully  attractive  bed  corner  and  looked  away 
quickly  to  the  double  doors  which  led  to  a  little  bal- 
cony on  which  vines  and  potted  flowers  were  growing 
with  much  confidence  in  spring  and  its  airs  and  sun- 
shine. Immediately  at  his  left  was  a  window  leading 
to  a  fire-escape,  which  was  masked  by  a  big  box  of 
red  geraniums.  In  one  corner  was  a  huge  Victrola 
which  had  been  tinted  a  light  colour  to  match  walls 
and  curtains,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a 
table  holding  books  and  cigarettes.  The  general 
effect  was  one  of  pastel  beauty,  but  Farrell  thought 
pastel  effects  rather  weak,  and  beauty  of  any  sort 
another  weakness. 

"  Anna,"  he  said,  "  where  is  mother  ?  " 
"  Mr.  Farrell,  it  is  you  ?  "  she  queried,  showing  a 
neat  and  smiling  person  at  the  door.  "  Madame 
Howard  is  away  from  here.  She  have  gone  —  Dieu ! 
I  cannot  remember.  I  bring  you  the  leetle  book 
of  engagements." 

She  went  back  into  the  bedroom.  Farrell  paced 
back  and  forth  like  a  caged  animal.  He  approved 
of  Anna  quite  so  little  as  he  did  of  the  room.  He 
regarded  raiment  as  a  mask  and  not  a  drapery. 
There  was  never  any  mask  about  Anna's  gown.  She 
was  proud  of  her  well-developed  figure  and  meant 
the  world  to  approve  of  it.  She  was  back  in  a  mo- 


THE  CUB  GROWLS  125 

ment  with  a  small  leather  book  which  she  handed  to 
Farrell. 

"  Read  it,  Mr.  Farrell,  it  open  your  eye ! "  she 
said. 

Farrell  sat  down  and  read  aloud  in  dull  despair: 
"  9,  Thursday,  hair  wave;  9:4i5,  breakfast  here, 
Michael;  10:30,  manicure,  if  time  massage;  11:30, 
fitting  Celeste;  18:30,  chiropodist;  1:30,  luncheon 
with  Michael,  Ritz;  2:30,  milliner  to  try  coral  hat; 
&,  Colonial  Club  to  meet  Lecture  Course  Committee 
with  Amos ;  4* :30,  Amos  at  Antoine's ;  6,  Michael  for 
little  chat;  8,  dinner,  Peg,  John  and  Dal;  the 
Walmsley's  dance  later ;  11 :30,  supper  Cafe  Beaux 
Arts ;  home  in  motor  with  Dal ;  a  little  chat." 

He  dropped  the  book,  which  Anna  stooped  and 
picked  up. 

"  My  God !  Does  she  never  sit  down  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed hopelessly. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Farrell,"  explained  Anna,  "  Ma- 
dame must  keep  a  little  book." 

"  All  of  that  before  bedtime ! "  he  cried. 

"  What  is  bedtime  ?  Pouf !  Here  we  do  not  have 
bedtime.  We  have  good  time.  When  Madame  is 
very  fatigue  she  go  to  bed,  not  because  it  is  time. 
She  say  so  many  nice  people  die  in  bed."  Anna  was 
scornful. 


126          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Anna,"  Farrell  spoke  with  severity,  "  tell  me, 
what  is  to  be  done  about  my  mother?  You  know  I 
can't  have  her  going  about  like  this.  It  will  make 
her  ill.  She  ought  to  be  at  home  in  Brookline,  where 
she  belongs.  Of  course,  I  think  her  brain  is  affected, 
but  no  one  else  seems  to." 

Anna  laughed  merrily.  "  Mr.  Farrell,  you  are 
absurd,  Madame  Howard  is  not  crazy.  Non.  It  is 
not  her  head  which  bother  her,  it  is  her  heart." 

"  You  do  not  think  she  seriously  considers  such 
a  frightful  calamity  as  marriage  —  at  her  age  ? 
Merciful  Heavens !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Farrell  was  aghast.  This  terrible  thought  had  not 
come  to  him  before.  He  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
held  his  head  in  his  hands  dejectedly.  Anna,  much 
bored  by  his  lack  of  interest  in  his  mother's  flirta- 
tions, went  on  to  make  clear  the  falsity  of  his  attitude. 

"  Mr.  Farrell,"  she  said,  "  you  must  not  think 
Madame  Howard  have  age  and  bedtime.  She  is 
charmante,  imterestante,  coquette.  She  have  one, 
two,  three  messieurs  mad  over  her.  For  you,  Mr. 
Farrell,  I  see  un  beau  pere  in  the  cards.  For  me,  I 
adore  a  —  what  you  call  it  —  love  affair.  I  have 
always  wanted  a  lady  like  Madame,  who  flirt  with 
all  messieurs  and  believe  none.  I  help  Madame.  I 
prepare  Madame  for  the  war.  I  make  all  the  h'ttle 


THE  CUB  GROWLS  127 

crease  and  wrinkle  go.  I  undulate  the  hair,  I  make 
Madame  wear  the  French  slipper  if  it  hurt  or  not. 
I  say  always,  Madame  can  never  be  comfortable  and 
easy  and  look  young.  It  is  too  much.  If  she  look 
young  with  corset  and  show  and  coiffure,  she  suffer. 
Bien,  it  is  nothing.  She  has  a  few  easy  hours  when 
she  sleep.  And  look  at  Madame,  she  have  lost  ten 
years.  She  is  beloved  of  three  messieurs.  She  is 
worried,  tormented,  scolded,  adored  by  all  of  them. 
They  are  very  jealous  of  Madame.  See  the  figure 
of  Madame,  her  shoulders,  her  elbow.  She  have  the 
complexion  of  a  debutante.  She  have  the  little  ways 
messieurs  adore.  Bien!  And  you  talk  of  age  and 
bedtime." 

"  Mother !  My  mother  going  on  like  that,  after 
all  these  peaceful,  comfortable  years.  I  wonder  if 
she  really  cares  for  any  of  those  men.  It's  almost 
indecent  —  at  her  age !  "  Farrell  rocked  back  and 
forth  quite  sick  at  heart. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  There  it  is  again.  Her  age.  It 
is  not  chic  to  say  that  so  much.  What  is  age? 
Madame  look  far  too  young  to  be  a  mother  of  you." 
Anna  looked  at  him  with  disapproval. 

"  That's  just  what  I  think,"  he  returned  fiercely. 
"  I  wish  I  knew  some  way  to  make  her  settle  down. 
Upon  my  soul,  I  have  a  great  mind  to  get  married 


128          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

and  have  a  baby  and  then  she'll  be  a  grandmother ! " 

He  rushed  out,  furiously  angry. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  the  threat,"  laughed  Anna,  raising 
her  shoulders  in  that  European  dismissal  of  all  things 
which  may  not  be  otherwise  explained. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    SHOE    PINCHES 

WHILE  Farrell  was  so  irritably  seeking  out  his 
mother  at  Mrs.  Brinton's,  she  was  lunching  with 
Michael  Doyle  at  the  Ritz.  Much  of  her  pleasure 
on  this  occasion  was  that  which  a  woman  finds  in 
that  she  is  singularly  well-dressed  and  much  observed. 
New  York's  sympathies  are  often  more  European 
than  American. 

Mrs.  Howard  always  enjoyed  the  Ritz.  It  was 
the  most  un-Boston  place  in  New  York  and  she  liked 
its  remoteness  from  her  past.  It  steadied  her  in  her 
efforts  to  maintain  a  difficult  sense  of  youth  and  an 
often-ebbing  enthusiasm  for  the  gay  whirl  of  the 
Brinton  menage  and  she  felt  that  the  wonderfully- 
dressed  women  about  here  were  paying  in  just  as 
large  denominations  of  comfort  for  their  appearance 
as  she  was.  The  difficulty  of  a  thing  is  lessened 
when  one  feels  that  there  are  so  many  fellow- 
sufferers. 

Michael  was,  as  ever,  buoyant  and  impetuous.  His 
tongue  was  an  anarch.  It  defied  all  the  rules  of 

polite    conversation,    throwing    compliment,    appeal, 

129 


130          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

flattery  and  requests  swiftly  down  before  the  often 
bewildered  widow,  the  Irishman  always  concentrated. 
His  eye  never  wandered  from  her;  there  never  was  a 
break  in  his  optical  and  vocal  flattery  of  her.  His 
eyes  said  that  which  even  his  lawless  tongue  did  not 
dare. 

But  on  the  whole  she  was  not  enjoying  herself  a  bit. 
Her  clothes  galled  her  unusually  to-day ;  Michael  was 
crowding  her  hard  and  becoming  very  insistent ; 
Amos  was  insanely  jealous  and  vowed  himself  capable 
of  any  wild  action,  and  Dallas,  she  knew,  was  dis- 
tinctly bored  by  the  time  she  had  been  giving  to  both 
the  other  men.  Her  dress,  a  brown  velvet  tailored 
costume,  with  a  broad,  weighted  sash,  hampered  her 
every  action  and  Anna  had  put  it  on  her  so  relent- 
lessly that  even  to  swallow  was  torture.  As  she  had 
an  early  afternoon  fitting  she  forced  the  reluctant 
Michael  to  take  her  away  and  drop  her  at  the 
modiste's  where  she  met  Mrs.  Brinton  at  her  favourite 
pastime  of  putting  together  new  outfits.  Then  after 
they  were  sure  Farrell  was  safely  out  of  the  way  they 
returned  to  the  house. 

Once  within  the  Brinton  walls,  Mrs.  Howard  sur- 
rendered to  discomfort.  She  was  thoroughly  miser- 
able and  she  tottered  into  her  sitting-room  exclaim- 
ing, "  Boots,  Anna,  boots ;  I  am  in  torture." 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  131 

Mrs.  Brinton,  always  amused  by  her  friend's 
struggles,  sat  down  opposite  her  while  Anna  came  in 
from  the  bedroom.  The  maid  kneeled  down  before 
Mrs.  Howard  and  removed  the  offenders.  The 
widow  gave  a  great  sigh  and  wiggled  her  newly-re- 
leased toes  gratefully. 

"  They  are  hand-sewed,  beautiful  boots,"  re- 
proached Anna. 

"  They  are  instruments  of  the  Inquisition,"  cor- 
rected Mrs.  Howard.  "Was  Mr.  Farrell  here?" 

"  A  second  ago.     You  could  not  miss  him." 

"  Mrs.  Howard  did  not  want  to  see  him,"  explained 
Mrs.  Brinton. 

"  I  am  not  equal  to  my  daily  upbraiding,  perhaps 
I  may  be  later  on.  I  do  so  wish  that  Farrell  would 
go  home.  He  is  very  much  in  the  way  here."  Mrs. 
Howard  expressed  her  weariness  of  her  struggles  with 
her  son.  She  removed  her  gloves  and  tossed  them 
away. 

"  Are  the  gloves  too  small,  also  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Brinton,  who  had  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  Everything  I  have  on  is  too  small  and  too  tight," 
cried  the  widow  pathetically.  "  My  waist  band,  my 
collar,  my  sKoes  and  my  corset.  I  wear  so  much 
false  hair  that  my  neck  aches,  and  my  eyes  are 
strained  reading  without  my  glasses.  The  bones  in 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

my  collar  stick  into  me  cruelly  and  there  isn't  nearly 
room  enough  to  sit  down  in  my  skirt.  With  five  pairs 
of  garters  I  can't  stand  or  sit.  When  I  am  out  I 
pose  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  my  back  like  a  ramrod, 
and  my  waist  in  a  vise.  All  my  teeth  ache  and  I  feel 
absolutely  wretched.  Moreover,  that  massage  pugi- 
list pounded  me  into  a  jelly.  Peg!  I  feel  like  a 
boneless  sardine ! " 

Anna  was  much  taken  back  by  this  tirade  but 
Mrs.  Brinton  smiled  with  initiated  sympathy. 

"  I  weep,  Madame,  when  you  speak  so,"  said  the 
maid.  "  You  are  so  modish,  so  chic.  What  does  it 
matter  that  there  is  not  room  enough?  Madame 
Brinton,  she  does  not  complain." 

"  She  is  used  to  it,  poor  soul,  but  I  am  not." 
Mrs.  Howard  struggled  at  her  collar.  "  For  heaven's 
sake,  Anna,  undo  my  collar." 

"  Ah ! "  she  exclaimed  with  wonderful  relief,  as 
the  offending  item  of  her  sartorial  scheme  came  off. 

Mrs.  Brinton  flicked  away  the  ashes  of  her  ciga- 
rette and  laughed  gaily.  "  Ellie,  I  am  ashamed  of 
you,"  she  said.  "  You  ought  to  be  the  happiest  of 
creatures.  How  many  women  of  your  age  have  three 
men  madly  in  love  with  them,  all  the  excitement  and 
delirium  of  youth  and  not  in  homeopathic  doses.  I 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  133 

feel  for  Anna,  who  has  made  of  you  this  wonderful 
and  alluring  creature." 

"  Of  course,  Peg,"  replied  Mrs.  Howard,  a  little 
nettled,  "  it's  wonderful  to  have  three  men  in  love 
with  you,  but  it  doesn't  make  one's  clothes  more  com- 
fortable. Do  let  me  be  miserable  in  peace ! " 

"What  is  Madame's  next  engagement?"  asked 
Anna,  picking  up  the  engagement  book.  "  Bien, 
6 :30,  Mr.  Dallas  for  chat.  Tea  gown?  " 

"  Thank  God  for  a  small  mercy ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Howard.  "  A  tea  gown  means  at  least  an  inch  or 
two  of  breathing  room."  She  rose  wearily  and 
added,  "  Anna,  unhook  me." 

Anna  threw  Mrs.  Howard's  coat  over  her  arm  and 
loosened  a  few  hooks.  The  widow  glared.  "  All  of 
me !  "  she  commanded,  whereupon  the  perturbed  maid 
went  rapidly  down  the  back  of  the  dress.  "  I  never 
realised,  Peg,  how  much  pluck  you  had.  Think  of 
the  years  you've  worn  all  these  things  and  yet  you're 
always  smiling." 

"  Ellie,  this  is  nothing,"  was  Mrs.  Brinton's  com- 
ment. "  Think  of  some  of  the  things  women  en- 
dure. They  sleep  in  chin  straps  and  wrinkle  plasters. 
When  they  go  to  bed  they  look  as  if  they  had  been  in 
a  railway  accident." 


134*          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Howard,  "  I  wish  I 
hadn't  tried  to  look  quite  so  young." 

"  If  Madame  will  come  into  her  chamber,"  said  the 
maid,  "  I  will  let  out  the  corset  for  one  hour.  There 
is  a  ravisante  new  tea  gown." 

"  I  never  want  to  see  any  more  clothes,"  petulantly 
interrupted  the  mistress. 

"  With  elbow  sleeves,"  Anna  resorted  to  guile. 
"  Mr.  Dallas  he  adore  the  elbow  of  Madame." 

Mrs.  Howard  surrendered  with  a  smile.  "  Yes, 
yes,  he  did  say  that,  didn't  he?  I'll  put  on  the  tea 
gown,  Anna.  Peg,  can  I  have  a  bite  to  eat  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  and  Anna  both  held  up  their  hands  in 
horror.  "But  you  have  just  lunched!"  objected 
the  hostess. 

"But  that  was  hours  ago,"  objected  the  hungry 
widow.  "  Besides,  I  never  lunch  in  this  dress.  There 
isn't  room." 

Anna  continued  to  struggle  with  the  back  of  Mrs. 
Howard's  gown  and  the  latter  gave  her  all  the  aid 
she  could  by  drawing  in  her  breath  to  the  last  possible 
degree.  When  the  tortured  widow  could  speak  again 
she  explained,  "  I  have  to  pretend  eating  when  I  wear 
this  costume.  I  crumble  bread,  sip  at  a  grape-fruit 
and  play  with  a  lean  chop.  That  isn't  a  lunch. 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  135 

Now,"  she  grasped  her  loosened  skirt  in  front  and 
relievedly  pulled  it  up  and  down.  "  I  am  quite  loose 
and  comfortable.  I  feel  that  I  could  really  do  justice 
to  something." 

Mrs.  Brinton  laughed  and  rang  for  Metz.  Anna 
surveyed  her  hungry  charge  disapprovingly. 

"  Madame  Howard  look  far  too  healthy.  She  do 
not  starve  enough,"  commented  the  maid. 

"  I  haye  to  eat  now  and  then,  it's  a  necessity." 
Mrs.  Howard  was  becoming  belligerent.  For  the  mo- 
ment she  was  the  enemy  of  all  clothing. 

She  was  hungry  and  tired.  Her  body  clamoured 
both  for  food  and  rest.  She  was  being  goaded  by 
nature  into  an  almost  primitive  desire  for  these  essen- 
tials of  living.  The  cruelty  of  her  lacing  came 
poignantly  to  her  mind. 

"  I  must  take  off  my  corsets  and  lie  down  a  few 
minutes,"  she  wailed. 

She  snatched  at  the  front  of  her  corsets,  failed 
to  make  any  impression  and  tried  the  back.  Anna 
caught  Mrs.  Howard's  hands  and  held  them  tightly 
behind  her  back.  "  If  Madame  does,"  the  maid  ad- 
monished, "  it  will  be  impossible  to  get  her  dressed 
again.  She  will  spread  like  yesterday." 

That  threatened  calamity  sobered  Mrs.  Howard. 


136          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Mrs.  Brinton,  seeing  her  pause,  advised :  "  Oh, 
Ellie,  I  wouldn't  do  it.  Never  lie  down  in  the  day 
time !  I  never  do." 

Mrs.  Howard  yawned  piteously.  "  I  would  give 
a  fortune  for  a  nap,"  she  almost  wept. 

"  Never,  a  nap  is  at  least  two  pounds.  Then  the 
frocks  are  more  tight  than  ever."  Anna  was 
bristling. 

"  You  see,  Peg,  I  have  made  a  Frankenstein  out 
of  myself."  The  widow  was  repenting  her  revolu- 
tion. She  dropped  back  on  the  sofa  disconsolate 
and  disorganised,  her  finery  limply  about  her  shoul- 
ders and  waist. 

"  Ellie,  I  beg  of  you ! "  Mrs.  Brinton  sa*w  her 
friend's  courage  oozing  rapidly. 

"  Don't  give  up,  Madame,  fight ! "  Anna  assumed 
an  exhortatory  attitude  before  her  mistress.  By  a 
great  effort  Mrs.  Howard,  weary  and  hungry, 
struggled  to  her  feet. 

"  All  right,  I'll  be  a  good  soldier.  But,  Anna," 
she  was  pleading  again,  "  do  give  me  an  extra  inch 
when  I  get  into  that  tea  gown."  Yawning,  the  worn 
widow  limped  to  the  bedroom.  At  the  door  she 
turned. 

"  Where  do  we  dine  to-night  ?  "  she  asked,  with  her 
hand  concealing  another  yawn. 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  137 

"  At  the  Ritz.     Shall  you  wear  low  neck?  " 

"  I  certainly  shall !  "  Mrs.  Howard's  voice  finally 
found  some  enthusiasm.  "  I  adore  stripping  for  din- 
ner. At  least,  part  of  me  is  comfortable  when 
my  dear  old  neck  and  shoulders  are  bare ! " 

Mrs.  Brinton  seated  herself  at  the  writing  desk 
near  Mrs.  Howard's  door  and  talked  through  it  to 
the  widow  over  whom  Anna  again  was  struggling. 
"  Ellie,  I  wonder  if  you  realise  what  you've  done  to 
Dal?" 

"  Not  half  what  I  mean  to  do,"  came  through  the 
door  in  a  voice  again  courageous,  "  I'm  not  through 
yet!" 

"  Aren't  you  afraid?  " 

"  Of  Dal  ?  Bless  you,  no !  He's  too  big  to  be 
afraid  of." 

"  You  are  so  reckless,  Ellie.  Dal,  you  know,  has 
made  love  to  women  all  around  the  world  and  back 
again." 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  he  might  find  his  Water- 
loo right  here  in  New  York.  I  wonder  what  Far- 
rell  wanted  of  me  to-day." 

Anna  came  to  the  door  somewhat  mysteriously  and 
whispered,  "  Madame  Brinton,  what  you  think?  Mr. 
Farrell,  he  threaten  to  marry  and  make  Madame  How- 
ard grandmere ! " 


138          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Ellie,  did  you  hear  that  ?  Farrell 
threatens  to  marry,  have  a  baby  and  make  you  a 
grandmother." 

Mrs.  Howard,  wrapping  the  portiere  about  her, 
leaned  out  and  said  with  a  twinkle,  "  Isn't  he  sure  of 
himself?  If  he  only  would!  " 

Mrs.  Howard  soon  returned,  now  handsomely 
clothed  in  a  ravishing  tea  gown.  Anna  hurried  be- 
hind, catching  up  an  erring  hook  here  and  there. 
Metz  was  at  the  opposite  door  to  announce  that 
Mr.  Thomas  was  calling. 

"  I'm  out,"  snapped  Mrs.  Howard.  Thomas  had 
become  an  insistent  bore.  The  widow's  mind  now 
was  on  food.  As  Metz  was  leaving  she  called  after 
him,  "  Metz,  some  cold  meat  and  rolls,  a  cup  of 
cocoa  or  a  bit  of  salad  and  pickles  and  cake.  I  am 
so  hungry !  Bring  anything !  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  and  Anna  protested  simultaneously. 

"  Cake,"  exclaimed  Anna  reproachfully.  "  Oh, 
Madame,  cake !  "  Mrs.  Howard  looked  at  each  and 
saw  that  she  might  expect  sympathy  from  neither 
in  her  rebellion  against  her  diet. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  turning  with  resignation  to 
Metz.  "  Hot  water  with  lemon  and  quantities  of 
stale  bread." 

Metz     went     out.     Mrs.     Howard     yawned     and 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  139 

stretched  her  arms  in  utter  weariness.  "  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  sleep  for  ten  minutes."  She  threw  her- 
self on  the  sofa,  her  head  drooping  under  the  weight 
of  her  hair  dress. 

"  My  head's  so  heavy.  Couldn't  I  have  just  a 
little  more  hair  off?  This  wave,  perhaps,  it  makes 
my  forehead  so  warm." 

"  But,  Madame,  the  wave  cover  up  the  little  grey 
hairs."  Anna  was  relentless. 

"  Anna,  I'll  have  spinal  meningitis,  my  back  aches 
so." 

Mrs.  Brinton  suggested  removing  some  of  the  false 
hair  from  the  back. 

The  tyrannical  Anna  compromised  by  taking  off  a 
puff  or  two  and  substituting  a  soft  curl. 

There  were  still  slippers  to  be  faced. 

"  Anna,"  slyly  suggested  Mrs.  Howard,  "  bring 
me  some  slippers,  the  soft  black  velvets." 

"  With  that  gown  ?  Nevaire !  The  high-heeled 
empire  with  the  buckle."  Anna's  eyes  blazed. 
"  Madame  knows  her  feet  will  swell  and  then  I  cannot 
get  them  small  again  for  to-night." 

As  Anna  went  out  Mrs.  Howard  gazed  at  her 
somewhat  resentfully.  "  Merciful  heavens ! "  she 
said  feelingly,  "  it's  hard  work  being  a  beauty." 

"  My  dear,  we  all  work  over  it,"  commented  Mrs. 


140          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Brinton.  "  I  never  am  easy  from  morning  until 
night,  and  since  I  have  taken  to  cigarettes  my  appe- 
tite's all  gone.  Of  course,  I  hate  cigarettes,  but  it's 
so  old-fashioned  not  to  and  so  eccentric,  and  whether 
they  make  me  sick  or  not,  I  will  smoke.  You'll  have 
to  learn,  Ellie." 

Anna  was  back  and  there  was  another  ordeal  with 
the  slippers.  The  maid  got  one  on,  but  Mrs.  Howard 
could  not  stand  the  other.  She  snatched  it  from 
Anna's  hand  and  ladled  it  full  of  talcum  powder, 
finally  struggling  into  it. 

"  Pretty  slippers  always  hurt,"  said  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton, meaning  to  be  helpful. 

"  That's  on  a  par  with  your  remarks  about  the 
clothes,"  fumed  the  widow.  "  It's  not  comforting. 
Gracious,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  keep  this  up." 

Metz  then  came  in  with  the  food  which  Mrs.  How- 
ard welcomed  joyously.  He  placed  the  tray  with 
its  slender  luncheon  of  hot  water,  pickles,  biscuits, 
and  sliced  lemon  on  the  table,  announcing  as  he  did 
that  Mr.  Strong  was  calling.  Mrs.  Brinton  rose  to  go. 

"  I'll  be  down  at  once  to  see  Mr.  Strong." 

"  Very  good,  Madame,"  said  Metz.  He  removed 
a  napkin  dramatically  under  which  the  biscuits  had 
been  concealed  on  the  tray.  "  Cook  sent  up  hot  bis- 
cuits and  fresh  butter,  Madame !  " 


THE   SHOE  PINCHES  141 

Mrs.  Howard  reached  with  delight  for  one  of  the 
biscuits.  Anna,  seeing  what  she  was  doing,  rushed  to 
prevent  her,  while  Mrs.  Brinton  held  to  the  pitcher 
of  raspberry  shrub  to  prevent  its  being  broken. 

"  Oh,  Ellie !  "  protested  Mrs.  Brinton. 

Metz  regarded  the  biscuits  affectionately.  "  Cook 
couldn't  resist  'em,  Madame."  He  went  out. 

Mrs.  Howard  cast  about  for  an  excuse  to  get  rid 
of  the  maid. 

"  Anna,"  she  said,  "  go  into  my  bedroom  and  get 
me  a  hand-glass." 

She  then  reached  for  another  biscuit,  but  Mrs. 
Brinton  forestalled  her  by  taking  the  plate  away. 

"  Don't  touch  them,  Ellie,  dear.  Hot  dough  is 
so  fattening." 

Thus  did  Mrs.  Howard  begin  to  find  her  freedom 
from  the  cares  of  home  and  domesticity  harassed  by 
the  twin  devils,  conjured  up  by  the  modiste  and  the 
beauty  specialist.  Beauty,  if  only  skin  deep,  at 
least  hurt  to  the  bone.  Artifice  was  wearing  her 
down,  the  importance  of  her  musketeers  was  equally 
difficult  and  altogether  she  was  discovering  the  life 
of  the  butterfly  far  from  an  easy  one.  There  were 
days  when  she  would  have  given  it  all  up  in  a  second 
for  the  quiet,  the  comfort  and  the  groove-like  regu- 
larity of  the  old-fashioned  Brookline  house.  Mrs. 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Brinton,  by  some  mysterious  process,  seemed  to  wind 
herself  up  like  a  clock  late  every  night  so  that  she 
was  able  to  go  through  the  next  day  at  the  same 
killing  speed  as  the  one  before.  Mrs.  Howard  was 
not  used  to  this  social  strenuousness.  And  to-day 
was  one  of  the  days  when  she  would  have  retreated 
on  the  double  quick  if  there  were  not  others  to  face. 
She  thrived  under  opposition,  however,  and  whenever 
Farrell  came  in  to  upbraid  her  her  spirits  rose  rapidly, 
and  in  a  few  moments  she  would  be  quite  back  in 
fettle  again  with  zest  for  the  enterprise  and  nervous 
energy  enough  to  carry  her  through  another  week's 
siege  of  corsets,  tight  slippers,  diet,  masseurs,  mo- 
distes and  strenuous  admirers. 


SHARE    AND    SHARE    ALIKE 

MRS.  HOWARD'S  growing  irritation  with  things  ani- 
mate and  inanimate  was  not  lessened  any  by  Farrell's 
continued  presence  in  New  York.  She  had  repeat- 
edly "  sent "  him  back  to  Brookline,  but  he  would 
return  after  a  few  unsatisfactory  days  in  the  office, 
and  renew  his  insistence  on  his  mother's  return  to 
Brookline. 

To-day  when  he  called  at  Mrs.  Brinton's  he  found 
his  parent  alone  in  her  sitting-room  quietly  eating 
the  frugal  meal  of  those  who  diet.  His  manner  was 
apologetic. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mother,"  he  began,  "  that  I  spoke 
very  indiscreetly  to  Anna  a  little  while  ago." 

Mrs.  Howard  laughed  merrily  and  poured  herself 
a  glass  of  shrub.  "  Do  you  mean  your  dire  threat 
about  the  baby  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  didn't  frighten  me 
at  all.  I'd  adore  it.  Do  have  a  baby,  Farrell,  there's 
a  dear  child." 

Farrell  was  horribly  shocked. 

"  Mother,  mother !     It's  hardly  modest! "  he  cried. 
143 


144          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

The  spirit  of  the  banter  grew  on  the  once  more 
gay  mother.  Farrell's  manner  was  so  aged  that  she 
felt  an  ingenue  in  its  presence. 

"  I  knew  you  didn't  mean  it,"  she  said  flippantly. 
"  Evidently  I  needn't  crochet  the  blanket  yet.  We're 
dining  out,  and  you?  " 

Farrell  felt  the  moment  had  come  for  a  final  assault 
upon  folly  as  exemplified  in  the  conduct  of  his  parent. 

"  Mother,"  he  was  fearfully  reproving,  "  the  whole 
town  is  talking  about  you.  You  and  your  admirers 
form  almost  the  sole  topic  of  conversation  wherever 
I  go.  I  am  asked  if  I  am  the  son  of  the  famous 
Mrs.  Howard  who  succeeded  in  landing  Mr.  Doyle  and 
Mr.  Dallas  the  very  night  she  arrived.  Oh,  I  can't 
tell  you  how  grieved  and  shamed  I  am  over  it  all !  " 

Mrs.  Howard  continued  to  smile  blithely.  "  Poor 
Farrell !  "  she  cooed  with  soothing  mischievousness. 

Farrell  was  fairly  off  on  his  disciplinary  sortie 
and  not  to  be  headed.  "  They  have  even  put  bets 
up  on  it  at  the  club  as  to  which  of  the  men  will  get 
you  —  Mr.  Dallas  or  Mr.  Doyle,  with  the  odds  on 
Mr.  Doyle.  Always  your  name  is  linked  with  those 
of  these  men." 

Young  Brookline  paced  righteously  to  and  fro  as 
he  talked,  but  finally  came  up  squarely  before  the 
elder  with  horror  in  his  face. 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE       145 

"  Mother,"  his  tone  denoted  immeasurable  grief, 
"  I  hate  even  to  think  of  it,  but  I  actually  believe  — ," 
he  hesitated  and  then  plumped  it  out,  "  excuse  me, 
Mother,  I  believe  those  men  are  in  love  with  you." 

Love,  even  under  ordinary  circumstances,  was  an 
indecent  feature  of  life  to  Farrell.  He  regarded  the 
inevitable  wooing  among  young  people  as  something 
of  a  scandal,  but  out  of  season,  as  it  were,  it  became 
very  dreadful. 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  about  Mr.  Dallas,"  said 
Mrs.  Howard,  into  whom  seven  devils  had  entered. 
"  He  has  looked  into  the  crater  and  I  question  if  it 
was  half  warm  enough  to  suit  him." 

"  Mother  Howard,"  Farrell  was  aghast,  "  how  can 
you  say  such  awful  things?  And  both  these  men  are 
fifty.  It's  shocking." 

Mrs.  Howard  saw  a  need  of  justifying  her  course. 
"  Don't  be  conventional  and  smug,  Farrell,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  blood  runs  at 
much  the  same  tempo  in  the  veins  of  a  socialist  or  a 
banker.  And  youth  is  milk  and  water  compared  to 
middle-age,  when  middle-age  lets  go.  I  wouldn't  be 
twenty  for  the  world.  Imagine  the  dull  young  men 
I'd  have  to  spend  my  time  with.  But  these  men  of 
mine  are  live  dynamos.  They  haven't  felt  for  years, 
and  now  they  are  making  up  for  lost  time.  Give 


146          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

me  the  man  of  fifty,  who  has  learned  his  book,  whose 
dinner  has  to  be  good,  and  whose  motor  car  is  always 
at  the  door.  He  is  seasoned,  Farrell,  and  I  like  that. 
I  won't  be  a  training  school  for  husbands.  I  want 
men  who  know  how,  men  who  can  kiss  one  without 
scrambling  and  whose  kisses  are  events." 

Farrell  slumped  into  a  chair  quite  overcome. 
"Mother,  mother,  where  did  you  learn  it  all?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  laughed  the  gay  mother  with 
a  dismissing  fillip  of  her  manicured  fingers.  "  Per- 
haps it  was  born  in  me.  You  and  Brookline  have 
been  holding  it  in  all  of  these  years." 

Farrell  arose,  looking  shattered.  He  wandered  off 
to  the  table  where  his  mother  was  nibbling  at  her 
rigorous  luncheon.  He  absently  picked  up  a  cracker 
and  began  to  munch  it  in  desperation. 

"  Mother,  couldn't  you  be  satisfied  with  one  ad- 
mirer ?  "  he  asked  pathetically. 

"  Indeed,  I  could  not,  my  dear.  It's  an  absolute 
joy  to  me  to  feel  that  three  good-looking,  healthy, 
attractive  men  want  me." 

"  Three ! "  Farrell  bit  despairingly  into  the 
cracker. 

"  Farrell,"  she  said  reproachfully,  "  that's  a  good 
deal  of  my  very  slender  luncheon." 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE 

He  dropped  the  food  apologetically.  "  I'm  so 
upset !  "  he  explained. 

He  had  had  scant  satisfaction  so  far,  however, 
and  continued  to  press  his  mother.  "  What  do  you 
propose  doing  with  your  musketeers  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  she  countered.  "  As  yet  all 
this  is  only  the  beginning.  I  must  have  it  all  —  real 
passion,  real  love,  and  emotion  that  will  sweep  me 
off  my  feet.  I  want  to  be  frightened,  to  lose  my 
breath.  I  want  sensation.  I  never  had  it.  I  want 
to  be  moved  to  the  depths  of  my  being.  I  used 
to  rock  alone  on  the  porch  in  summer  and  knit  in 
the  library  in  winter,  and  no  man  ever  glanced  at 
me.  Now  I  ride  beside  one  in  a  motor  car,  or  flirt 
with  one  on  a  sofa." 

Anna  had  brought  in  a  toilet  tray  and  the  widow 
began  polishing  her  nails  as  an  item  of  preparation 
for  further  fray  in  her  flirtatious  campaign.  Far- 
rell  had  taken  his  mother's  last  declaration  as  another 
body  blow.  He  swayed  dizzily. 

"  Mother,  please !  "  he  begged. 

Mrs.  Howard,  seeing  his  condition,  followed  her 
advantage  breathlessly.  "  I  want  to  thrill  some  man 
to  the  utmost,"  she  continued.  "  My  heart  is  full 
of  throbs.  Every  beat  of  my  pulse  says,  '  live,  live ! ' 
Forty-eight?  I  feel  eighteen.  I  am  a  girl  again. 


148         YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

It's  a  wonder  I  didn't  break  out  long  ago.  I  love 
life  and  I  mean  to  have  every  crumb  of  it." 

"  Where  will  it  all  end  ?  "  cried  Farrell  in  agony. 

"  Don't  worry  over  me,"  advised  Mrs.  Howard. 
"  I  hope  I  shall  get  into  a  scandal.  I've  always 
wanted  to.  Now  be  a  good  boy.  Kiss  me  and  run 
along." 

Farrell  was  almost  frantic.  "  You  can't  mean 
half  you  say,  Mother.  It's  shocking.  It's  —  it's  — 
well,  it's  not  nice  at  alL  Good-bye,  Mother." 

"  Farrell,"  Mrs.  Howard  called  to  him  as  he 
reached  the  door,  with  the  naively  malicious  spirit 
of  a  bad  little  boy.  "  Farrell,  have  twins,  that  might 
settle  me ! " 

He  made  no  reply  save  to  bang  the  door  angrily 
after  him.  Words  had  failed  him.  Anna  now 
brought  in  curls  which  she  pinned  deftly  to  Mrs. 
Howard's  head.  The  latter  pushed  aside  the  lunch- 
eon tray  and  from  the  dressing  table  set  retouched 
her  ears  and  lips  with  rouge,  carefully  made  up  her 
mouth  and  then  surveyed  the  result  critically  in  her 
hand-glass. 

Metz,  appearing  to  remove  the  luncheon  tray,  an- 
nounced that  Mr.  Thomas  was  calling.  "  It's  his 
fifth  call  to-day.  Madame,"  he  explained,  "  Mr. 
Thomas  will  not  be  denied." 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE       149- 

"  Anna,"  ordered  Mrs.  Howard.  "  Go  down  and 
send  Mr.  Thomas  away.  Tell  him  I  am  dead  or  ill 
or  out  or  eating  or  bathing  —  anything  you  like. 
But  get  rid  of  him!" 

"  I  will  make  sure  this  time,  Madame,"  Anna 
promised,  as  she  hurried  out 

Metz,  who  had  been  mysteriously  holding  some- 
thing behind  his  back  all  this  time,  brought  it  before 
him  with  a  flourish.  "  Cook  has  sent  some  fresh 
chocolate  layer  cake,  Ma'am,"  he  announced  dramati- 
cally, as  he  drew  a  napkin  revealing  the  delicacy  in 
all  its  tempting  completeness.  "  If  Madame  cares  for 
it  Anna  will  be  none  the  wiser." 

"  Put  the  table  in  front  of  me,  Metz,"  she  or- 
dered. 

The  butler  did  so.  Mrs.  Howard  moved  over  and 
cut  a  huge  slice  of  the  cake.  Metz  reached  into  an 
inside  pocket  and  drew  out  a  bottle  which  he  handed 
to  the  widow. 

"  Cook,"  he  said,  "  also  has  sent  some  liquid  pepsin 
for  Madame  to  take  after  she  has  finished.  Cook 
once  lived  where  a  family  always  ate  recklessly  and 
then  pepsin  was  passed  about  with  the  finger  bowls." 

"  Cook  always  puts  temptation  in  one's  way," 
Mrs.  Howard  said  gratefully.  "  I  love  her  for  it- 
She  is  psychic." 


150          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  She  says,"  explained  the  butler,  "  that  one  may 
eat  quite  freely  and  then  trust  to  the  pepsin." 

Mrs.  Howard,  throwing  all  dietary  cares  to  the 
wind,  devoured  the  cake  eagerly,  washing  it  down 
with  generous  swallows  of  shrub. 

As  Metz  went  out  Anna  returned.  Mrs.  Howard 
heard  her  in  time  to  whisk  the  cake  away  and  hide 
it  on  her  lap  under  the  table. 

"  Oh,  Madame !  "  wailed  Anna,  "  Mr.  Thomas,  he 
will  not  go.  He  say  he  will  wait  until  you  come  in  — " 

Just  at  this  moment  Thomas  sauntered  insolently 
in,  saw  Mrs.  Howard  and  paused  as  her  astonished 
face  caught  sight  of  him. 

"  Well,"  he  announced  with  irritating  deliberation. 
"  You  see  I'm  here." 

Anna  was  quite  as  much  overwhelmed  as  her  mis- 
tress. "  Dieu,"  she  exclaimed,  while  Mrs.  Howard 
glanced  hopelessly,  first  at  Anna  and  then  at  Thomas 
for  an  explanation.  The  Socialist,  gratified  over 
carrying  his  point,  was  perfectly  willing  now  to  let 
the  situation  work  itself  out.  He  was,  for  Thomas, 
painstakingly  attired  in  a  neat  grey  suit  and  flowing 
Windsor  tie  and  he  flaunted  a  thin  little  cane. 

"  I  thought  I  was  out  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Howard 
sharply  when  she  finally  was  able  to  speak. 

"  I  knew  you  were  in  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to 


"Experience  all,    love  everybody  !" 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE       151 

see  you."  Thomas  still  was  standing  and  he  spoke 
slowly  and  with  even  emphasis  on  each  word. 

"  Mr.  Thomas,"  Mrs.  Howard  was  displeased 
when  she  forgot  the  Amos,  "  it  really  was  very  im- 
pertinent of  you.  Since  you  would  push  your  way 
in  you  must  not  mind  if  I  finish  my  luncheon.  I'm 
quite  famished." 

She  returned  eagerly  to  the  surreptitious  chocolate 
cake. 

Thomas  fixed  his  eye  on  the  cherry-hued  shrub 
and  the  cake.  "  It  looks  very  good,"  he  commented 
longingly.  His  weakness  for  food  had  a  youthful 
quality  about  it.  No  little  boy  could  have  turned 
more  quickly  from  an  imagined  wrong  at  sight  of 
tempting  edible. 

"  I  haven't  had  my  lunch  either,"  he  continued. 
"  Why  don't  you  ask  me  to  have  some?  '* 

Mrs.  Howard  wasn't  at  all  pleased  by  the  sug- 
gestion, but  she  had  to  work  out  the  situation  some 
way.  She  knew  Thomas  could  be  very  ugly.  The 
food,  if  anything,  would  mollify  him.  He  might 
even  forget  what  he  had  come  for.  So  with  an  air 
of  resentment  she  asked  him  to  sit  down. 

"  It's  not  much  of  a  luncheon,"  she  explained. 
"  I'm  dieting.  Anna,  get  a  chair  for  Mr.  Thomas." 

Anna  did  so  with  a   curiously  mixed  indignation 


152          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

and  approval.  For  various  reasons  she  felt  Thomas 
much  in  the  way.  But  she  admired  with  a  Gallic 
abandon  the  masculine  aggressiveness  which  Thomas 
had  displayed  in  forcing  his  way  to  Mrs.  Howard. 
The  intruder  put  hat,  cane  and  gloves  down  on  a 
chair  at  the  side  of  the  room  and  then  drew  up  to 
the  table. 

"  It  all  looks  very  good,"  said  Thomas,  looking 
hungrily  on  the  slender  feast.  "  What  is  that  curious 
red  drink?  " 

"Raspberry  shrub.     Will  you  have  some?" 

"  Thanks." 

"  I  knew  you  hadn't  lunched !  "  said  Mrs.  Howard. 
"  High-minded  people  like  you  never  lunch.  They 
either  forget  to  or  they  are  too  poor.  Will  you 
have  some  cake?  " 

"  Cake,  Madame !  "    Anna  rushed  to  the  table. 

"  Yes,  cake."  Mrs.  Howard  defended  the  dish 
against  the  swooping  maid.  "  I  will  have  it,  even 
if  it  makes  me  fat.  I  can't  get  any  sustenance  out 
of  a  pickle.  I'm  starving  —  and  angry !  " 

Thomas  was  growing  impatient.  "  Send  that  girl 
away,"  he  ordered. 

Anna  gave  him  an  angry  look. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  alone,"  he  continued  to  Mrs. 
Howard. 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE       153 

"  Anna !  "  Mrs.  Howard  said  firmly,  and  the  maid 
retired  to  the  bedroom.  "  What  unexpected  things 
you  do,  Amos.  Who  else,  I  ask  you,  would  have 
walked  upstairs  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  really  came  to  upbraid  you  for  your  coldness," 
he  said,  "  and  now  I  am  eating  chocolate  layer  cake 
instead."  The  Socialist's  mouth  and  hands  were 
full. 

"  But  I  hope  you  will  still  upbraid  me.  I  always 
revel  in  one  of  your  scoldings."  Mrs.  Howard  was 
forgetting  her  vexation.  The  more  earnest  Thomas 
became,  the  fuller  he  filled  his  mouth  with  cake. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  said  thickly  between  thicker 
bites,  "  that  you  can  go  about  with  me  as  you  have 
done  and  then  cast  me  aside  ?  You  knew  all  along  that 
I  was  in  earnest.  You  said  your  soul  was  in  tune 
with  mine — "  He  bit  furiously  into  another  piece 
of  cake.  "  Have  you  forgotten  that  ?  And  I  have 
kept  all  those  dear  little  notes  that  you  wrote  me. 
I  have  also  kept  the  picture  postal  we  had  taken  to- 
gether. And  have  you  forgotten  that  wonderful  aft- 
ernoon at  the  Anarchists'  Club  ?  " 

"  Amos,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Howard  with  a  shocked 
memory  of  smitten  couples  unhampered  by  any  re- 
gard for  convention  or  mere  laws,  "  I  don't  think 
that  was  at  all  a  nice  club !  " 


154          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Thomas  plunged  afresh  into  the  cake  and  shrub. 
"  Nice,"  he  exclaimed  as  vehemently  as  the  food 
would  permit  him.  "  What  a  silly,  obsolete  word. 
Nice  — "  he  bit  off  more  chocolate.  "  You  wanted 
to  be  free,  to  have  experience,  to  learn  the  big,  un- 
trammelled truths  of  love.  And  I  thought  I  could 
teach  them  to  you.  You  haven't  the  courage  of  a 
sparrow!  Why,  a  woman  should  taste  all!  Love 
when  and  where  she  will !  It's  a  glorious  creed !  But 
she  must  be  able  to  partake  of  this  love  and  return 
it,  not  throw  away  the  passion  of  an  honest  toiler 
that  she  may  play  more  easily  with  a  millionaire. 
Especially  that  millionaire  Dallas.  Each  should 
have  his  share." 

Thomas  punctuated  his  tirade  with  more  cake. 
Mrs.  Howard  becoming  alarmed,  drew  her  chair  far- 
ther from  the  table.  She  had  never  seen  fury,  lan- 
guage and  food  so  mixed  before. 

"  Each  should  have  his  share ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  That  makes  woman  into  a  sort  of  love  trust.  It's 
illegal!" 

Thomas  snorted.  "  Don't  talk  to  me  of  laws.  I 
break  them!  If  only  your  pretty  soul  could  grasp 
the  great  doctrine  of  the  varietist  in  all  its  perfec- 
tion !  Know  all,  feel  all  — "  He  halted,  seeing  Mrs. 
Howard  pick  up  a  small  bottle,  pull  the  cork  with 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE       155 

her  teeth  and  pour  some  of  a  clear  liquid  into  a 
spoon. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  demanded  with  never-failing 
curiosity. 

"  Pepsin." 

"  I'll  have  some,  too."  He  looked  dubiously  at 
the  cake. 

He  took  a  spoon  oiF  the  tray,  poured  off  a  dose, 
swallowed  it  hopefully  and  resumed  his  speech.  "  Ex- 
perience all,  love  everybody!  Do  you  hear  me? 
Love  everybody !  " 

"  Amos,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  were 
never  like  this."  The  widow  really  was  alarmed. 

"  You  never  were  excused  to  me  before,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  It  infuriated  me  and  I  could  have  beaten 
you."  He  glowered  at  her  fiercely. 

"  My  dear  Amos !  What  doctrine  is  that  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Man's,"  he  blustered.  "  Can't  you  see  I  am 
mad  with  love  for  you?  I  wouldn't  let  anything 
stand  in  my  way  in  order  to  get  the  woman  I  love. 
Why,  for  one  kiss  from  you,  I'd — "  He  glanced 
about  the  room  for  a  desperate  proof  of  some  sort. 
His  eye  fell  on  the  window  and  fire-escape.  "  Why, 
I'd  jump  out  of  that  window  down  four  stories  to 
the  street." 


156          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Nonsense."  Mrs.  Howard's  practical  New  Eng- 
landism  came  to  the  surface. 

He  rushed  to  the  window  and  struggled  with  the 
sash.  "You  don't  believe  me?  Well,  here  I  go!" 

"  Amos,  the  whole  house  will  hear  you ! " 

"  I'd  as  soon  jump  as  breathe." 

Mrs.  Howard  retreated  nervously.  "  You're  in- 
sane. Go  away,  go  away !  " 

"  You  said  you  wanted  a  desperate  love  affair. 
Well,  you  have  one ! "  He  fairly  bristled. 

"  Amos  Thomas ! "  exclaimed  the  worried  widow. 
""  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  You're  a  bully." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  softened,  "  but  I  could  be  a  great 
lover.  And  I  want  to  be  yours.  Is  it  yes  ?  "  he 
came  towards  her. 

"  How  can  I  say  yes  before  I  think,  Amos  ?  And 
you  really  must  go  now."  She  parried  for  time. 

"  You  are  evading  it."  He  grew  threatening 
again.  "  Will  you  give  up  this  rich  idler  for  me, 
for  your  Amos,  who  adores  you  —  whose  one  happi- 
ness you  are?  " 

"  I'll  think  it  over  carefully,"  she  promised.  "  You 
really  must  excuse  me." 

As  Amos  was  about  to  go  Anna  came  in  from  the 
bedroom.  "  Pardon,  Madame,"  she  said,  "  it  is  time 
for  the  engagement  with  Monsieur  Dallas." 


SHARE  AND   SHARE  ALIKE       157 

Mrs.  Howard  turned  quickly  to  silence  Anna,  but 
Thomas  had  heard. 

"  Madame  will  be  late,"  Anna  continued  disas- 
trously. 

Thomas  stopped.  He  was  very  angry  and  his  face 
revealed  brutal  possibilities  that  gave  Mrs.  Howard 
even  further  alarm.  She  felt  the  occasion  was  so 
serious  that  fate  would  forgive  her  the  fib. 

"  No,  Mr.  Dallas  is  not  coming  here  now,"  she 
broke  in  hastily.  "  Anna  is  mistaken.  I've  broken 
that  engagement.  I'm  going  to  lie  down.  I'm  ex- 
hausted. It  was  because  I  am  so  tired  that  I  was 
excused  to  you." 

Thomas,  still  furious,  turned  slowly  to  go. 

"  If  I  thought  you  were  turning  me  out  for  an- 
other man  — "  he  began,  when  Mrs.  Howard  inter- 
rupted. "  How  suspicious  you  are,  Amos.  I'm  not 
going  to  see  a  soul.  Do  go !  " 

Thomas  determined  to  get  a  definite  declaration. 
He  faced  the  widow  aggressively.  "  Will  you  give 
up  this  millionaire  for  me  ?  "  The  sharp  insistence 
of  his  manner  startled  her  and  she  backed  away  from 
him.  He  followed  her,  his  head  out,  his  lips  drawn  in 
a  dangerous  line  and  his  eyes  blazing.  "  Will  you  ?  " 
he  repeated. 

Mrs.  Howard,  losing  time  each  second  and  knowing 


158          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

that  Dallas  was  below  in  all  probability,  now  was 
solely  intent  on  getting  rid  of  Thomas. 

"  Yes,  yes,  please  go ! "  she  answered,  hardly 
knowing  what  she  said.  Thomas  picked  up  his  hat 
and  cane.  "  I'll  write  you,"  she  added,  waving 
him  on. 

"  See  that  you  do ! "  His  manner  was  most  em- 
phatic. 

Just  as  Thomas  reached  for  the  door  there  was  a 
knock  and  Mrs.  Brinton  entered  in  her  brisk  man- 
ner, not  noticing  the  Socialist. 

"  Ellie,  have  you  forgotten  your  appointment  with 
Dallas.  He's  here,"  she  announced. 

Thomas  turned  with  a  villainous  "  So-you-have- 
lied-to-me  "  expression,  but  went  out  muttering  furi- 
ously to  himself. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  bored.  She  didn't  approve  at 
all  of  her  friend's  intimacy  with  Thomas. 

"  Why,  Ellie,  how  did  he  — "  she  began. 

"  Oh,  Peg,"  laughed  the  widow,  much  relieved.  "  I 
told  him  Dallas  wasn't  coming.  Amos  is  so  jealous 
of  him.  I've  had  an  awful  scene.  Peg,  that  man 
will  shoot  me  if  I'm  not  careful." 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  Mrs.  Brinton  placed  no  such 
high  valuation  on  the  Socialist's  courage. 


CHAPTER    XII 

PLAYING    GAMES 

WHETHER  or  not  Mrs.  Howard  was  openly  conscious 
of  the  fact,  Christopher  Dallas  by  this  time  had 
come  to  be  a  very  important  item  of  her  new  life. 
His  attentions  were  so  unobtrusively  but  skilfully 
manoeuvred  that  she  had  come  to  rely  on  him  for 
a  variety  of  things.  She  would  have  been  very  much 
lost  without  his  ever-ready  suggestions  for  an  idle 
hour  or  a  vacant  afternoon.  He  turned  up  intui- 
tively whenever  he  was  wanted.  She  never  relied 
on  him  that  he  failed.  He  was  shockingly  forgetful 
of  business  appointments,  but  he  had  never  kept  a 
woman  waiting  with  whom  he  had  a  social  engage- 
ment, thus  reversing  the  tradition  of  the  American 
man.  He  made  his  office  unimportant  and  the  pad 
there  got  the  attention  of  a  changeling  child.  On 
the  other  hand  his  book  of  social  engagements  was 
consulted  as  religiously  as  a  breviary. 

The  study  of  Mrs.  Howard's  wants  and  comforts 
was  made  his  major  occupation.  And  no  inconsid- 
erable part  of  that  study  was  devoted  to  the  care 

159 


160          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

that  she  should  not  be  bored,  that  she  should  never 
have  too  much  of  him.  Christopher  Dallas,  if  the 
first  to  come,  was  no  less  the  first  to  leave. 

Perhaps  his  devotion  was  because  he  had  found 
in  the  Brookline  widow  his  first  thoroughly  unspoiled 
woman.  She  came  to  him  as  fresh  and  interested  as 
a  debutante,  but  with  a  quaint  humour,  a  fragrant 
wholesome  mentality  and  a  durable,  common-sense 
back  of  all  her  apparent  frivolity  that  held  him 
steadily  after  his  first  vivid  and  unforgettable  con- 
tact with  her  mind  and  spirit.  She  had  touched  him 
in  a  moment  of  boredom  with  the  extreme  sophistica- 
tion of  the  women  of  his  metropolitan  set.  He  had 
tired  of  cynicism,  artificiality  of  thought  and  expres- 
sion, and  extremities  of  sophistication.  An  experi- 
mental turn  of  mind  hitherto  had  led  him  largely  to 
women  who  were  making  experiments  of  their  own. 
He  somehow  felt  for  the  first  time  out  of  the  ama- 
tory laboratory. 

And  so  the  man  of  the  world  and  the  woman  of 
Brookline  came  closer  and  closer  to  a  mental  and 
spiritual  comradeship  which  once  gained,  might  lead 
them  on  to  a  completer  and  more  durable  intimacy. 
With  Dallas,  Mrs.  Howard  felt  a  comfortable  serenity 
which  was  never  hers  when  she  was  in  the  company 
of  one  of  the  other  men.  The  novelty  of  Thomas 


PLAYING  GAMES  161 

had  worn  off  and  there  was  left  after  his  pseudo  radi- 
calism and  engaging  audacity  were  stripped  away 
an  unpleasant  and  often  brutal  egotism.  Doyle,  with 
his  world  of  compliments,  his  quick  gallantries,  his 
mellow  humour  and  his  instinctive  sense  of  the  road  to 
a  woman's  approval,  delighted  her  when  she  was  in 
merry  mood,  but  he  was  never  willing  to  take  her 
as  he  found  her.  He  always  compelled  her  to  rise 
to  his  blithe  and  bantering  level.  And  it  wasn't  al- 
ways easy  for  her  to  do  this.  Besides,  way  under- 
neath all  that  pleasant  exterior,  she  sensed  there 
things  she  knew  she  would  not  like  at  the  surface. 
Then,  too,  she  retained  enough  of  her  inborn  New 
Englandism  to  demand  in  a  man  a  certain  amount 
of  distinction  of  birth.  Dallas  was  the  only  one  of 
the  three  men  of  whose  background  she  wholly  ap- 
proved. 

So  she  lunched  with  Dallas,  rode  about  with  him 
in  his  imposing  motor,  did  the  plays  and  the  opera, 
accepted  his  flowers  and  his  chocolates  and  the  other 
items  in  his  multitude  of  well-chosen  attentions.  His 
friendship  for  John  Strong  and  Strong's  regular  pres- 
ence at  the  Brinton  home  made  it  very  easy  for  all 
manner  of  little  informal  affairs  in  which  the  four 
participated.  Each  couple  was  always  ready  to  pair 
off  and  leave  the  other  safe  from  interruption. 


162  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

One  late  afternoon  the  four  had  returned  to  Mrs. 
Brinton's  from  a  rather  long  luncheon.  Dallas  had 
brought  back  a  pleasingly  sentimental  record  of  a 
favourite  opera  singer  which  he  wished  to  try  on 
Mrs.  Howard  as  an  experiment.  After  it  was  over 
and  Strong  and  Mrs.  Brinton  had  gone  out  on  the 
little  balcony  for  a  little  chat,  Dallas  stood  up  in 
all  his  six  feet  of  imposing  and  polished  self  and 
looked  down  on  the  enigmatical  widow.  The  after- 
noon light  was  gradually  turning  to  dusk  and  the 
shadows  were  growing  deeper  through  the  attractive 
sitting-room. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  in  merry  mood.  "  Well,"  she 
laughed,  "  you  experimented  with  the  music.  Did 
it  have  any  effect  on  you  ?  " 

Dallas,  not  to  be  caught  in  any  college-boy  senti- 
mentalism,  crossed  before  her,  turned  and  faced  her 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room.  "  No,  it  didn't,"  he 
commented.  "  And  I  notice  it  left  you  unscathed." 
He  turned  the  probe  back  to  her. 

"  As  if  I  didn't  know  better?  "  Mrs.  Howard  was 
growing  venturesome. 

"  Exactly  as  if  you  didn't  know  better." 

Mrs.  Howard  smiled  archly  at  him.  "  I  believe 
you'd  stop  at  nothing." 

The  bachelor   came  quickly  to  his   most   familiar 


PLAYING  GAMES  163 

encounter,  a  battle  of  wits  with  a  woman.  "  Noth- 
ing," he  affirmed  interestedly. 

Mrs.  Howard  looked  at  him  hard  through  eyes 
that  were  wide  in  the  twilight.  "  Aren't  you  afraid 
you  may  go  too  far?  "  She  felt  daring. 

"  I  told  you  I  played  hard,"  answered  Dallas.  He 
was  putting  the  possible  blame,  manlike,  on  the 
woman.  "  You  know  you  dared  me  to." 

He  was  quite  wonderful  to  her  in  the  dimming 
light.  He  seemed  taller,  more  Olympian  than  she 
had  ever  seen  him.  And  was  there  a  new  softness  in 
his  tone  under  all  the  banter? 

"  But  suppose,"  her  voice  trembled  a  little,  "  sup- 
pose that  I  believed  in  it,  this  game,  some  of 
it?" 

Dallas  came  closer  to  her.  "  Do  you  want  to  be- 
lieve? "  There  was  an-  appealing  tone  in  his  voice. 
"  Tell  me,  shall  we  stop  playing?  And  if  we  do, 
do  you  know  what  it  would  mean?  It  would  mean 
the  door  thrown  wide  open,  so  you  could  see  every- 
thing. And  I  would  be  on  the  threshold  pulling  you, 
drawing  you,  making  you  enter  into  my  holy  of 
holies."  He  put  his  hand  on  his  heart.  "  And  then 
when  I  had  you  safely  inside  I'd  shut  the  door  and 
keep  you  there.  Would  you  come  in?  " 

She  was  kneeling  on  the  couch  now,  facing  him  as 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

he  stood  behind  it.  "  I'd  like  to  look  in,"  she  said 
mischievously.  "  Open  the  door  a  little  crack  to  me, 
Dal."  She  touched  his  breast  with  a  little  finger. 
He  caught  her  hand,  which  she  pulled  away.  Feel- 
ing unsafe  in  the  bewitching  twilight  she  ran  to  the 
wall  and  flashed  on  the  electrics.  He  blinked  and 
then  smiled  at  her.  Her  way  of  avoiding  actualities 
amused  him. 

"  It's  going  to  be  wide  open  or  shut,"  he  continued, 
as  she  settled  back  on  the  sofa.  He  studied  her 
fondly. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  resumed  softly  after  a  long 
look  at  her,  "  I've  never  seen  your  eyes  look  as 
they  do  to-night,  they're  so  soft  and  tender.  And 
your  mouth."  He  stopped  again  and  drew  in  a 
great  breath.  "  Ellie,  your  mouth  is  positively 
criminal!  The  thoughts  it  has  put  into  my  head! 
I  used  to  keep  track  of  the  time  each  day  that  I 
longed  to  kiss  it."  He  leaned  over  the  couch  quite 
fascinated.  "  But  I  had  to  stop  because  I  couldn't 
count  so  far." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  enjoying  every  second  of  the 
encounter  with  a  characteristic  combination  of  senti- 
ment and  humour.  "  It's  like  a  man  to  count  kisses 
when  he  hasn't  had  any."  The  feminine  joy  of  draw- 
ing the  masculine  out  was  in  her  soul.  "  I  wonder 


PLAYING  GAMES  165 

how  you  look  when  you  are  wanting  a  kiss.  Next  time 
you  do  — "  she  placed  her  face  close  to  his  and  puck- 
ered her  lips  and  then  withdrew  swiftly  as  he  leaned 
down  — "  tell  me." 

Dallas  was  bewitched.  "  The  things  you  say  to 
me  and  the  things  you  do  and  still  you  expect  me 
to  keep  my  senses."  He  made  fervent  love  to  a 
defenseless  sofa  pillow.  "  I'm  a  big  man,  little  you," 
he  continued,  dropping  the  pillow  and  looking  down 
over  the  back  of  the  couch,  "  and  I  can  feel  a  lot  to 
the  square  inch.  Play  fair !  " 

"  Play  fair ! "  she  echoed  as  he  reached  out  and 
took  her  left  hand  in  both  his.  She  released  her- 
self and  continued,  "  A  moment  ago  you  asked  if 
we  should  stop  playing.  Do  you  really  know  what 
you  do  want  of  me  ?  "  She  threw  her  heart  and  soul 
into  her  eyes,  and  Dallas  swallowed  the  look  greedily. 
He  breathed  hard. 

"  When  you  look  at  me  that  way,  Ellie,  there 
doesn't  seem  to  be  air  enough  to  breathe.  I'm 
stifling.  Please  stop  playing,  be  real !  "  He  touched 
her  with  reverent  affection. 

"  This  afternoon  life  seems  almost  too  real,"  she 
said,  gently  disengaging  herself  and  backing  away 
from  the  sofa,  "  and  you  are  almost  too  near." 

Dallas  was  hurt  by  her  evasion  of  him.     He  came 


166          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

around  the  sofa  out  to  the  centre  of  the  room  and 
stood  before  her. 

"  How  you  delight  to  thrust  and  parry,"  he  com- 
mented, "  to  lunge  and  recover.  I'm  no  match  for 
you.  Wherever  you  aim,"  he  touched  his  breast, 
"  touche."  He  studied  her  for  a  moment.  "  Be  a 
little  kind,"  he  continued  imploringly,  "  stop  devil- 
ling me  for  one  day.  Haven't  I  earned  that?  And 
isn't  yours  the  exquisite  satisfaction  of  knowing  that 
I  come  a  little  earlier  each  day  and  stay  a  little  later 
each  evening?  "  He  took  her  hand  and  held  it  firmly. 
"  And  at  this  particular  moment !  "  He  paused  ten- 
derly. "  This  is  one  of  the  moments,  Ellie  — "  She 
interrupted  him,  quite  radiant  and  quite  happy. 

Strong  and  Mrs.  Brinton  were  stirring  out  on  the 
balcony.  She  saw  them  and  checked  Dallas  from 
further  avowals. 

"  Please,  please,  don't  say  it  all  to  me  now.  There 
is  the  whole  evening  left.  And  besides,"  Strong  was 
tapping  on  the  glass,  "  John  and  Peg  are  coming 
back." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  why  do  they  have  to  come  back  now?  " 
He  wasn't  a  bit  pleased  to  have  the  chat  broken  into, 
but  before  he  could  offer  further  objection  Strong 
and  Mrs.  Brinton  were  in  the  room. 

"  Time !  "  exclaimed  Strong  maliciously. 


PLAYING  GAMES  167 

"  You  must  have  had  very  little  to  say  to  Mar- 
garet," Dallas  commented  sarcastically. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton,  raising  her  eyebrows, 
"  I  think  we  have  given  you  two  plenty  of  time.  You 
know  Peg  and  I  must  dress  for  dinner  and  you  might 
as  well  let  us  do  it  now.  Go  down  into  the  library 
and  order  yourselves  some  fizzy  little  drinks." 

The  men  did  not  show  the  slightest  signs  of  mov- 
ing. Dallas  looked  for  Strong  to  go  and  Strong 
waited  for  Dallas.  Both  had  been  well  started  on 
man's  well-known  proclivity  to  declare  himself,  and 
neither  of  them  was  at  all  in  the  mood  now  to  be 
thrust  into  the  uncheering  masculine  society  of  the 
other. 

"  Do  run  along,"  urged  Mrs.  Brinton  almost  tear- 
fully, "  and  come  back  for  us  —  oh,  well,  not  too 
soon.  And  don't  you  dare  appear  before  Ellie  is 
half  ready."  She  turned  to  Strong,  seeing  that 
Dallas  n  was  listening  to  her.  "  John,  like  a  dear, 
do  go." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  objected.  "  It's  hours  before  dinner 
time.  We  refuse  to  be  left  all  alone.  One  of  you 
dress  at  a  time,  eh,  Dal  ?  " 

"  Please,  Margaret,"  Dallas  seconded.  "  John 
and  I  are  tired  of  each  other.  We  might  quar- 
rel." 


168          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Mrs.  Howard  rose  and  started  for  her  room. 
"  Take  them  down,  Peg,  I'll  hurry." 

"  Can  you?  "  questioned  the  doubting  Dallas. 

"  Truly  I  will."     She  looked  at  him  tenderly. 

"Do,"  he  returned.  "Til  time  you."  He  took 
out  his  watch  and  studied  it.  Then,  seeing  Strong 
and  Mrs.  Brinton  turning  to  the  door  he  grasped 
the  widow's  hand  quickly  and  kissed  it  fervently.  As 
he  was  about  to  go  Metz  knocked  at  the  door  and 
said,  "  Mrs.  Howard,  Mr.  Doyle  wishes  to  see  you, 
Madame." 

"  Heavens !  "  broke  in  Dallas,  "  that  man  never 
knows  when  he  is  in  the  way.  Say  you  can't  see  him. 
You  know  you  are  sending  me  away." 

Strong,  scenting  trouble,  thrust  his  head  in  at  the 
door.  "  That  will  never  do  for  Michael,"  he  com- 
mented. "  You  ought  to  know  him  better  than  that." 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  frankly  protested  Dallas.  He 
stood  his  ground  formidably. 

"  I  promise  you  he  will  not  stay  more  than  a  sec- 
ond," urged  the  widow.  The  bachelor  seemed  satis- 
fied with  that.  He  took  Mrs.  Howard's  hands. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten  our  appointment  after  the 
dance,  have  you,  my  dear  friend?  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  quickly. 


PLAYING  GAMES  169 

"  Come  on,  Dal,  you'll  be  late,"  insisted  Strong, 
coming  into  the  room  and  dragging  the  reluctant 
Dallas  off  with  him. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

A    CAVE    MAN 

MRS.  HOWARD  had  her  own  reasons  for  wanting  to 
see  Doyle.  She  knew  he  soon  would  have  to  be 
headed  off  from  his  impetuous  wooing.  There  was 
no  such  thing  as  arresting  Michael  once  he  had  a 
formidable  start.  He  had  a  masculine  velocity  and 
impact  which  were  appalling.  At  the  luncheon  which 
he  had  given  her  at  the  Ritz  on  this  day  he  had  so 
importuned  her  that  she  felt  gravely  the  need  of 
checking  him.  Just  how  to  do  this  she  did  not  know. 
She  planned  to  await  an  opportune  moment  in  con- 
versation and  hoped  some  such  time  would  come 
quickly. 

Before  Doyle  had  had  time  to  come  .up  from  the 
door,  the  maid  busied  herself  with  a  few  final  touches 
on  the  room  and  her  mistress  was  startled  to  hear 
Mrs.  Howard  exclaim: 

"  Anna,  a  man  on  the  fire-escape !  " 

Both  looked  nervously  to  the  window  opening  on 
the  court  at  the  right  of  the  room.  The  intruder 

was   struggling  with  the  geranium  box,  the  flowers 

170 


A  CAVE   MAN  171 

hiding  his  face.  As  the  window  came  up  there  was 
revealed  the  insolent  leer  of  Amos  Thomas. 

"  Amos  Thomas !  "  Mrs.  Howard  exclaimed.  She 
was  furious  and  very  bored.  She  had  no  thought 
that  the  Socialist's  jealousy  of  Dallas  would  lead  him 
into  so  doubtful  a  position.  Thomas,  meanwhile, 
leaned  angrily  on  the  flower-box,  looking  into  the 
room,  for  the  plants  effectually  barred  his  entrance. 

"  So  you  lied  to  me  about  Dallas,"  he  muttered. 
"  Well,  it  didn't  do  you  any  good.  I  knew  he  was 
here.  I  heard  his  voice.  And  I  saw  him  go  out 
there  " —  pointing  to  the  door  — "  just  a  minute  ago." 

"  Amos  Thomas  !  How  dared  you  ?  "  Mrs.  How- 
ard and  Anna  rushed  simultaneously  to  the  window, 
slammed  it  down  and  locked  the  catch. 

Scarcely  was  the  curtain  down  when  Doyle  was 
knocking  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Howard  rushed  to  the 
sofa,  extricated  her  beloved  chocolate  cake  from  be- 
neath the  pillow  where  it  had  been  since  Thomas'  visit 
and  returned  to  the  table  for  another  bit  of  her  much- 
interrupted  refection. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said  when  she  was  finally  disposed 
at  the  table  to  her  satisfaction.  Anna  retreated  to 
the  bedroom  and  Doyle,  always  quick,  neat  and  at- 
tractive, stepped  in  alertly.  He  carefully  closed  the 
door  behind  him. 


172         YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Dallas  says  you  are  in  a  hurry  to  dress,"  he 
explained,  "  but  I  promise  to  keep  you  only  a  mo- 
ment." He  seemed  surprised  to  find  her  nibbling  at 
cake.  "  And  what  are  you  doing  there?  "  he  added. 

"  Eating,"  she  answered  naively. 

"  Will  ye  listen  to  her."  The  Irishman  was 
puzzled.  "  And  only  a  little  while  ago  I  had  you  for 
lunch  at  no  less  a  place  than  the  Ritz." 

Taking  a  page  out  of  her  visitor's  own  book  of 
blarney  she  commented  gallantly,  "  I  only  eat  when 
I'm  hungry,  Irishman,  and  I  wasn't  when  I  was  with 
you." 

He  came  a  little  closer  to  the  table.  "  Do  you 
mean  it  ?  "  He  was  very  pleased,  "  Lord  love  ye.  Is 
it  a  bit  of  flattery,  now,  or  is  it  for  fear  you'll  be 
hearing  the  thump  of  my  heart." 

"  My,  Irishman,  but  you've  a  soft  tongue." 

Doyle  never  allowed  a  woman  to  get  the  better  of 
him  in  this  sort  of  contest. 

"  And  a  softer  heart,"  he  supplemented,  "  you've 
pounded  it  so." 

He  looked  at  her  with  extravagant  approval.  "  I'll 
forgive  you  all  if  you'll  only  tell  me  what  the  pas- 
sionate rose-coloured  drink  is  in  the  glass."  A  pro- 
fessional interest,  as  it  were,  had  been  touched. 

"  Why  that's  — "  began  Mrs.  Howard,  when  there 


A  CAVE  MAN  173 

was  a  crash  of  falling  flower-pots  in  the  court.  Doyle 
started  and  she  arose  somewhat  fearfully. 

"  What  was  that?  "  Doyle  turned  quickly  to  the 
curtained  window.  Mrs.  Howard  ran  so  rapidly  that 
she  reached  it  first.  She  turned  a  corner  of  the  cur- 
tain and  looked  out.  Finding  Amos  still  on  the  fire- 
escape  she  turned  her  back  and  said  reassuringly, 
"  It's  nothing  but  the  cat."  Then  she  again  looked 
out  discreetly,  and,  as  if  addressing  one  of  the  pets, 
said  imperatively,  "  Pst !  Pst !  Go  down !  " 

She  diverted  Michael's  attention  by  extolling  the 
virtues  of  the  old-fashioned  shrub.  He  accepted  a 
glass  and  tried  a  little  of  the  liquid  on  his  expert 
tongue,  while  the  widow  stood  nervously  against  the 
window. 

"  It's  not  bad,"  he  reported  after  his  trial.  "  It's 
near-soda.  I  can  drink  anything  once.  I  suppose 
that  fuzzy  taste  is  the  fuzz  off  the  raspberries."  He 
put  down  the  glass  and  faced  Mrs.  Howard,  who 
had  returned  to  the  table. 

"  Widow !  I'm  going  to  lecture  you.  You're 
very  careless  about  the  naughty  world." 

Mrs.  Howard  affected  to  be  terrified.  "  Oh, 
my!  If  it's  about  the  naughty  world,  I  am 
worried."  She  forgot  her  resolutions  and  said  softly, 
"What  is  it,  Irishman?" 


174          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Lord  love  ye !  "  he  expostulated.  "  Don't  look 
at  me  that  way  or  smile  at  me  so.  I'll  not  be  able  to 
say  it  at  all.  And  it  needs  sayin',  Widow.  It's  se- 
rious, very  serious." 

"  Really  serious,"  she  mocked.  "  Are  you  actually 
going  to  terrify  me  ?  "  Somehow  she  didn't  feel  a  bit 
in  the  mood  to  reprove  Michael  now  that  he  had  come 
to  scold  her. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  need  to  be  terrified  ?  "  con- 
tinued Doyle. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  I'm  left  alone  with  a  cave  man.  I 
may  learn  a  new  trick."  Mrs.  Howard  was  unre- 
generate. 

"  And  it's  you  have  the  daring  tongue,"  he  said 
warningly.  "  Remember,  I'm  only  half  civilised  and 
the  other  half  of  me  has  noticed  you." 

"  I  wonder  if  it  was  safe  for  Peg  to  leave  me  here 
with  a  man  who  is  only  half  civilised?  "  She  pre- 
tended to  be  alarmed. 

"  I'll  give  the  widow  this  much,"  commented 
the  delighted  Doyle.  "  You're  not  afraid  of 
me." 

"  Nor  twenty  such."  She  snapped  her  fingers  at 
him. 

"  But  I'll  not  stand  for  people  talkin'  about  ye." 
He  returned  to  his  lecture. 


A  CAVE   MAN  175 

"  And  who  did?  "  Mrs.  Howard  was  only  mildly 
curious. 

"  Men,  and  they'll  not  do  it  soon  again,"  he  said 
fiercely.  "  But  if  the  women  commence  it,  God  help 
you.  I  can't  shut  their  mouths  so  easily." 

Mrs.  Howard's  eyes  twinkled.  She  leaned  towards 
her  earnest  visitor.  "  There's  really  only  one  sure 
way  of  shutting  a  woman's  mouth  —  with  kisses." 

Doyle  followed  her  head  fascinatedly.  He  at- 
tempted to  realise  her  advice  only  to  find  her  slyly 
blocking  his  way  with  a  good  sized  piece  of  the  choco- 
late cake. 

He  backed  away.  "  Every  time  I  look  at  ye, 
Ellie,  I  wonder  some  man  hasn't  strangled  you !  You 
are  so  damned  unafraid." 

"  That  is  probably  why ! "  she  returned  saucily. 
"And  now  what  crime  am  I  charged  with?"  she 
asked. 

"It's  the  truth,  and  I'll  not  stand  for  it!"  he 
affirmed.  "  It's  Dal  —  and  I  am  jealous.  You  are 
seen  too  much  together." 

"  And  he  complains  that  I'm  seen  too  much  with 
you,"  she  returned.  "  Truly  there  is  no  pleasing 
men." 

"  Now  understand  me,  there  is  talk,  far  too  much 
talk  about  Dal  and  you,"  continued  Doyle.  "  And 


176          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

I'm  mad  to  the  skin.  I  know  it's  just  your  pretty, 
careless  way.  Ye  love  to  play  with  bonfires,  pro- 
vided you  light  them  and  Lord  love  ye,  but  you've 
started  one  burning  under  me  you'll  have  to  watch." 
His  voice  softened  and  he  came  closer  to  her. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  enjoying  herself.  "  Don't 
come  too  near  me,"  she  said  daringly,  "  I  might  catch 
fire  myself." 

Doyle  put  hands  on  the  table  and  leaned  down 
opposite  her.  "  No  woman  has  heated  my  blood 
up  for  ten  years,"  he  said  vehemently.  "  Then  you 
came  along,  with  your  devilish  foolin'  ways,  and  the 
smile  of  ye,  that  catches  hold  of  me  and  bites  like 
a  strong  drink.  I'm  sittin'  at  the  tip  top  of  the 
toboggan,  Widow,  and  it  only  needs  a  push  to  start 
me  down,  and  then  hell's  fire  will  be  loose,  mind  that. 
When  I'm  at  the  bottom  of  the  slide,  it's  the  bar- 
tender you'll  have  to  handle,  and  he's  common  earth 
—  are  ye  afraid  now,  Widow  ?  " 

She  had  moved  back  a  little,  but  stood  her  mental 
ground.  "  Not  I,"  she  answered  with  a  smile.  She 
rose  and  came  round  the  table  until  she  was  close 
to  him.  She  looked  up  archly.  "  I'd  love  meeting 
a  bartender,"  she  added. 

"  I'm  mad  over  ye !  "  exclaimed  Doyle,  marvellously 
taken  with  her. 


A  CAVE  MAN  177 

She  had  forgotten  her  resolution  to  disillusion  him. 
He  made  love  so  blithely,  was  so  amusing  under  all 
his  surface  of  earnestness  that  she  hadn't  the  strength 
to  stop  him  now. 

"  Truly,  you're  wonderful  to-day !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
like  you  in  this  new  mood." 

"  It's  not  a  new  mood,"  he  interposed.  "  It's  just 
the  Irish  in  me.  Are  you  going  to  mind  what  I  say, 
Widow?" 

"  Probably  not."  She  was  incorrigible  for  the 
moment.  "  I'll  do  just  what  I  like." 

"  Mind  ye,"  warned  Doyle,  "  I  won't  let  you  go 
without  a  fight.  There  might  be  a  scandal." 

"  I'll  do  just  what  I  please." 

"  Well,  then,  please  decide  between  the  two  of  us. 
It  hurts  me  to  hear  people  discussing  ye." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  promise."  She  went  over  to 
the  window  and  listened  for  a  moment.  Hearing 
nothing  she  came  back  to  the  table. 

"  Do  you  perhaps  love  Dal,  now  ?  "  pursued  the 
Irishman  meanwhile. 

"  And  if  I  do?  "  She  grew  coquettish.  "  Dal  is 
very  fascinating,  you  know,  and  you  never  can  — " 
She  gave  him  a  wonderful  look  and  smile. 

"  I'd  kill  ye  first."  Jealousy  was  eating  into  him. 
He  paused  a  moment  contemplatively.  He  hesitated 


178  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

and  then  blurted  out,  "  Has  he  kissed  ye,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  she  answered  gaily. 

"  Then  I'll  be  before  him  for  once."  Mrs.  Howard 
was  startled.  She  knew  she  had  gone  too  far.  Doyle 
reached  for  her,  but  she  eluded  him  by  running  back 
of  the  sofa.  He,  thinking  she  was  trying  to  get  to 
her  room  and  Anna,  stood  between  her  and  the  door. 
She  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  picking  up 
a  pillow  as  she  passed  the  sofa.  She  was  not  able 
long  to  keep  away  from  him.  As  he  came  up  she  hit 
at  him  with  the  pillow.  He  caught  it  and  she  seized 
another  which  he  took  just  as  quickly.  Then,  seeing 
the  perfume  atomiser  which  Anna  had  left  on  the 
table,  she  grasped  that  and  spurted  the  liquid  in  his 
face  as  he  advanced  again. 

"  You  little  devil,  you  are  blinding  me,"  he  cried, 
but  he  kept  right  on.  She  could  no  longer  avoid 
him.  He  seized  her,  taking  the  atomiser  from  her. 
She  struggled  hard,  then  seeing  that  she  was  not  to 
escape  .him,  put  her  hand  against  her  mouth.  He 
quickly  pinned  her  arms  and  then  kissed  her  on  the 
cheek,  then  more  roughly  on  brow  and  hair  as  she 
twisted  and  turned  in  an  agony  of  opposition. 
Finally  she  leaned  back  in  despair. 

"  Ellie!  "  he  breathed,  "  kiss  me,  just  once  of  your 
own  choosin' —  kiss  me,  kiss  me !  " 


A  CAVE  MAN  179 

"  You  are  so  rough,"  she  said  weakly. 

"  Don't  ye  like  that,  darlin'?  It's  a  new  trick  I'm 
teachin'  ye."  He  put  his  face  against  hers  and 
talked  passionately  to  her.  "  I  long  for  ye  so, 
woman,  that  it's  a  big  ache  in  me.  I  want  ye,  want 
ye,  do  ye  mind  —  and  I'm  fifty  and  more.  That's 
time  to  be  over  such  feelin'  and  I'm  just  startin'  in. 
I'll  love  ye  from  mornin5  till  night,  Ellie,  and  I'll 
try  not  to  be  rough  with  it.  Only  kiss  me,  just  once 
darlin',  and  say,  *  Michael,  I  love  ye.'  Am  I  hurtin* 
ye?  I've  always  wanted  to.  You're  so  damned  sure 
of  yourself."  He  held  her  hard  and  she  struggled 
again. 

"  Please  —  I'm  tired,"  she  cried. 

"  Kiss  me,  then !  " 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  you." 

"Do  ye,  now?  Well,  who  is  stronger,  eh?"  he 
twisted  her  around. 

"  You  really  hurt  me.     Please." 

"  I'd  like  to  turn  your  wrists  till  you  cried  and 
kiss  ye  until  I  bruised  your  mouth,  and  hold  you  so 
close  in  my  arms  you'd  hardly  breathe.  And  even 
then  I  wouldn't  have  ye.  It's  the  soul  of  ye,  that 
stands  over  there  and  mocks  me ! " 

"  I'm  frightened,"  she  urged.  Her  fear  of  him 
instantly  sobered  Doyle.  He  let  her  go,  quite  over- 


180          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

come  by  his  outbreak.  She  backed  away  and  sank 
on  the  sofa  exhausted. 

"  I'm  a  brute,"  he  apologised,  realising  his  offence. 
"  God,  how  it  comes  out  at  such  a  time !  Don't  ye 
be  frightened  of  me,  Ellie.  I'll  not  do  it  again.  I 
couldn't  bear  to  have  ye  afraid.  It's  the  sauciness 
and  courage  of  ye  that  warm  me  heart.  Will  ye 
forgive  me?  " 

"  Good  gracious,  was  that  love,  Michael  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I'm  not  quite  sure  what  it  was." 

"  It's  the  way  I  know  how  to  love,"  he  explained 
contritely.  "  Real  feeling  is  just  the  primitive  in 
a  man  getting  out.  You  are  the  sort  of  woman  who 
has  herself  to  blame  for  the  way  she  is  treated.  You 
know  I  am  on  fire  inside,  that  I  am  sufferin'  hell's 
torments  over  ye,  and  ye  tease  and  devil  me  until 
I  am  nearly  crazy.  If  it  isn't  a  slipper,  it's  an 
elbow,  and  if  it  isn't  a  smile,  it's  a  whiff  of  heliotrope ; 
ye  hunt  out  the  dark  corners  where  the  beast  is 
restin'  and  rout  him  out  into  the  light.  When  he 
snarls  and  snaps  ye  laugh  at  him.  All  of  the  worst 
of  me  wants  ye,  Ellie,  and  all  of  the  best,  too." 
He  was  tender  again. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  through  a  cyclone,"  she 
said  as  she  arose  weakly,  "  and  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  am  angry  or  not.  I  said  that  I  wanted  to  stir  some 


A  CAVE  MAN  181 

man  to  his  depths,  so  I  shouldn't  complain.  But 
after  all,  if  that  is  passion,  it's  fearfully  uncom- 
fortable." 

"  I'd  make  a  better  husband  than  lover."  He 
came  close  again  and  she  started  back  in  alarm. 
"  But  there's  no  doubt  I  love  ye,  Ellie,  and  I  love 
ye  damned  hard.'* 

"  Please  excuse  me,"  she  waved  him  off.  "  I  am 
honestly  quite  exhausted.  If  anyone  ever  doubts 
your  temperament,  Michael,  send  her  to  me.  If  you 
will  join  Peg  and  John  Strong,  I  will  come  a  little 
later." 

Doyle  took  her  hands.  "  Are  ye  angry  with  me?  " 
She  pulled  away,  slapping  his  fingers. 

She  retreated  to  her  door.  "  I  don't  know,"  she 
answered.  "  I  really  don't  think  I  am.  But  I  am 
breathless  and  I  ought  to  be  furious."  He  came 
towards  her.  "  Go  away ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  You 
wicked  man.  You,  you,  you're  terrible."  She  took 
hurried  refuge  in  the  room  and  slammed  the  door 
after  her. 

"  God  love  her!"  said  Doyle  to  himself.  "  She'd 
devil  St.  Anthony."  He  hesitated  a  moment  and 
then  knocked  on  her  door. 

"  Widow  — "  he  whispered,  and  then  knocked 
again.  She  opened  it  just  a  crack. 


182          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  It's  good-night  to  you,  Irishman,"  she  said  se- 
curely from  the  refuge  of  her  room. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  he  asked  sadly. 

"  Good-night ! "  she  said,  attempting  to  close  the 
door. 

"  You  may  shut  your  door,  Ellie,"  he  returned 
once  more,  flowery  of  speech,  "  but  you  can't  shut 
out  my  love,  that's  with  ye  always." 

"  Good-night,  Irishman,"  she  said  softly,  much 
mollified. 

"  Good-night,  Widow."  He  turned  to  go  as  she 
shut  her  door. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    WIDOW    YIELDS 

MRS.  HOWARD'S  scene  with  the  Irishman  had  been 
so  strenuous  that  for  the  moment  she  had  forgotten 
the  extraordinary  appearance  of  Amos  on  the  fire- 
escape.  He  was  still  there,  however.  A  stalwart, 
masculine  sneeze  came  from  without  the  window  just 
as  Doyle  was  on  the  way  to  the  door  after  his  dis- 
missal by  the  widow.  Michael  listened  carefully  a 
moment  as  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  The 
sneeze  was  repeated,  a  little  off  the  key  of  its  prede- 
cessor, perhaps,  but  still  undoubtedly  from  the  same 
source.  Doyle  was  about  to  investigate  when  he 
heard  foot-steps  stealthily  approaching  in  the  hall. 
Rather  foolishly  he  retreated,  going  through  the 
glass  doors  to  the  balcony  outside  Mrs.  Howard's 
sitting-room.  He  felt  that  he  would  be  in  better 
position  to  act  from  there  providing  an  intruder  of 
some  sort  had  got  into  the  house.  So  he  closed 
himself  out  carefully  and  awaited  developments. 
The  door  opened  very  slowly  and  a  head  looked  in 

furtively.     It  was  that  of  Farrell  Howard. 

183 


184          YEARS    OP   DISCRETION 

The  young  man  glanced  about  excitedly,  then 
turned  his  head  and  whispered  to  someone  behind 
him.  He  came  in  on  tiptoe,  followed  by  Strong, 
Dallas  and  Mrs.  Brinton. 

"  Are  you  sure  there's  someone  on  the  fire-es- 
cape ?  "  asked  Strong  in  a  guarded  tone. 

"  Positive,"  affirmed  Farrell,  whose  eyes  were  bulg- 
ing excitedly  behind  his  prim  glasses. 

"  Margaret,"  advised  Dallas,  addressing  Mrs. 
Brinton,  "  go  into  Ellie's  room  and  keep  her  there." 

"  But  do  call  me  if  there's  any  excitement,"  she 
requested  as  she  went.  She  rapped  at  the  bedroom 
door  and  entered  immediately  with  the  remark,  "  It's 
Peg,  Ellie." 

Farrell  bristled  with  excitement.  "  I  asked  the 
policeman  to  watch  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  so  the 
burglar  can't  escape  that  way,"  he  said. 

At  that  moment  there  was  another  formidable 
sneeze  without.  Farrell  rushed  forward  pugna- 
ciously. Dallas  restrained  the  youth  and  signalled 
to  Strong  to  help  raise  the  window. 

"  One,  two,  three,  ready !  "  exclaimed  Dallas.  The 
curtain  shot  up,  then  the  window.  The  men  looked 
out  to  see  the  blinking,  yawning,  sneezing  Thomas. 

"  It's  the  Socialist ! "  Dallas  could  not  conceal 
his  astonishment. 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  185 

"  What  are  you  doing  on  the  fire-escape  outside 
this  window?  "  demanded  the  furious  Farrell. 

"  Will  you  kindly  climb  in,  Mr.  Thomas  ?  "  re- 
quested Dallas. 

"  How  do  I  get  in  ? "  Thomas  blinked  at  the 
rampart  of  geraniums. 

"  How  did  you  get  out  ?  "  Farrell  was  gasping. 

"  If  someone  will  put  a  chair  here  and  remove 
this  box  of  flowers  I'll  come  in  gladly,"  said  Thomas. 
"  I  mounted  this  damnable  affair  from  the  street  and 
it  was  no  easy  task.  I  am  quite  dizzy  and  very  bored 
and  I  have  caught  — "  he  sneezed  — "  a  horrible 
cold." 

Thomas,  after  Dallas  and  Strong  had  removed  the 
flowers  and  placed  the  chair,  came  over  the  sill  stiffly 
and  sheepishly.  Once  in  the  room,  however,  he  re- 
covered his  wonted  poise  and  with  airy  composure 
studied  the  window  and  fire-escape. 

"  Imagine  how  useful  that  would  be  in  case  of 
fire,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  surgical  operation  to  get  in 
or  out." 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  there?  "  Farrell  was 
bursting  with  impatience  and  petty  authority. 

"What  matter?"  asked  Dallas.  "He  isn't  a 
burglar  at  all  events.  Perhaps  Mr.  Thomas  will  tell 
us  of  his  own  accord." 


186          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"Are  you  going  to  answer  me?"  insisted  Farrell 
in  the  throes  of  indignation. 

Thomas  looked  Farrell  over  contemptuously. 
"  That's  my  business,"  he  said. 

Young  Howard  rushed  forward  but  Dallas  re- 
strained him. 

"  Easy,  Farrell,"  advised  Strong.  "  Mr.  Thomas 
is  a  friend  of  your  mother's." 

"  I  don't  believe  it."  Farrell  almost  wept.  "  Mr. 
Dallas,  you  know  it  isn't  true,  don't  you?  " 

"  My  boy,  your  mother  certainly  knows  him  more 
or  less,"  replied  Dallas.  "  Whether  she  knew  he 
was  on  the  fire-escape  I  am  not  prepared  to  say.  I 
did  not  know,  however,  that  Mr.  Thomas  was  in  the 
least  venturesome.  Perhaps  he  will  tell  us  about  it. 
Let  us  all  sit  down,  and  remember,  Farrell,  your 
mother  is  in  the  next  room." 

Dallas  motioned  Thomas  to  a  seat  at  the  centre  of 
the  room.  He  and  Strong  then  sat  at  either  side  of 
the  Socialist  and  the  excited  Farrell  fidgeted  to  a 
seat  near  his  mother's  door. 

"  I  really  am  rather  old  to  play  young  Verona," 
volunteered  Thomas  lightly.  "  And  a  trinity  of 
angry  male  friends  is  a  sad  substitute  for  Juliet." 

"  Mr.  Howard  is  waiting  for  your  explanation," 
advised  Dallas  quietly. 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  187 

"  There  are  a  good  many  things  going  on  in  this 
house  I  don't  like,"  returned  Thomas  insolently. 
"  Mrs.  Howard  told  me  she  didn't  expect  to  see  any- 
one, especially  you.  I  don't  like  to  be  lied  to. 
That's  why  I  climbed  the  fire-escape." 

Farrell  rose  furiously.  "  You  impertinent  cur, 
what  right  have  you  to  discuss  my  mother?  " 

"  Steady,  Farrell,"  advised  Dallas. 

Thomas  rose  angrily.  "  If  it's  of  much  interest 
to  you,"  he  said  to  the  boy,  "  you  might  care  to 
know  that  another  friend  of  Mrs.  Howard's  is  hid- 
ing out  on  the  porch." 

Farrell  rushed  to  the  porch  door  and  tore  it  open. 
The  others  rose  in  time  to  see  Michael  Doyle  enter 
calmly. 

"  Michael !  "  exclaimed  Dallas  and  Strong  together. 

"  I  am  going  crazy,"  cried  Farrell,  sinking  back 
on  the  couch.  "  There  are  men  everywhere." 

"  What  the  devil  is  all  this  row  about  ?  "  asked 
Doyle  calmly.  "  Can't  a  man  take  a  breath  of  fresh 
air?" 

Dallas  faced  the  Irishman.  "  When  you  came  in 
a  while  ago  you  said  your  business  with  Mrs.  Howard 
would  only  take  you  a  few  moments." 

"  Sure  I  did,"  returned  the  ready  Doyle.  "  You 
might  have  known  it  was  only  an  excuse." 


188          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Farrell,"  continued  Dallas  evenly,  "  found  Mr. 
Thomas  on  the  fire-escape  and  you  on  the  porch, 
directly  out  of  his  mother's  apartments.  He  doesn't 
care  for  it.  For  that  matter,  neither  do  I.  You 
and  I  can  discuss  that  later,  but  this  man — "  he 
waved  at  Thomas. 

"  When  I  tell  Howard  that  I  am  expectin'  to  marry 
his  mother,  I'm  sure  he'll  cool  down."  Michael  was 
going  a  little  farther  than  he  had  intended. 

"  What  ?  "     Dallas  was  astounded. 

"  Marry  her  —  you  pompous  fool !  "  Thomas 
bristled,  jumping  up.  "  She's  engaged  to  me.  She 
said  yes  to  me  not  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Engaged  ?  "  Dallas  gave  Thomas  a  look  which 
clearly  said  "  impossible." 

"  Yes,"  affirmed  Thomas  staunchly. 

"  To  you?  "  Dallas  continued. 

"  To  me." 

"I  wonder!" 

Strong  doubled  up  with  an  amused,  "  Oh,  Lord !  " 

To  Strong  it  was  all  absurdly  ridiculous. 

Doyle  advanced  on  Thomas.  "  You  are  a  damned 
liar  and  a  lot  more  I  won't  say  1 "  The  Irishman 
was  beside  himself. 

"  Don't  let  us   discuss  this   any  further  without 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  189 

Mrs.  Howard,"  advised  Dallas.     "  Farrell,  won't  you 
call  your  mother?  " 

Farrell  rushed  violently  to  the  door  of  his  mother's 
room  and  rapped  frantically.  "  Mother,"  he  cried, 
"  please  come  out  as  soon  as  you  can !  " 

"  I  am  coming,"  she  answered.  A  moment  later 
she  appeared,  exquisitely  dressed  for  the  evening  in 
a  clinging,  silverish  gown  cut  daringly  fore  and  aft, 
and  given  ardent  colour  only  by  a  crimson  rose  effect 
at  her  waist  and  a  large  fan  of  the  same  hue.  She 
had  never  appeared  to  better  advantage  in  all  her 
life. 

"For  heaven's  sake!  What's  the  matter?"  she 
asked  as  she  saw  the  assemblage  before  her.  She 
caught  sight  of  Strong  and  Dallas  still  in  their  after- 
noon clothes. 

"  Why  haven't  you  two  started  yet  ?  "  She  looked 
puzzled.  Dallas  turned  to  one  side  without  a  word, 
revealing  Thomas,  who  stepped  forward.  "  Oh ! 
How  did  you  get  in?  " 

Everyone  was  having  a  most  uncomfortable  half 
minute.  Mrs.  Brinton  went  to  John  Strong  and 
the  two  turned  their  backs  and  gazed  hopelessly  out 
of  the  window.  Mrs.  Brinton  hated  scenes  and  the 
present  situation  frankly  bored  her.  Farrell  was 


190          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

blowing  from  fury  to  humiliation,  Dallas  looked  grave 
and  injured,  Michael  was  belligerent  and  Thomas 
seemed  capable  of  any  insolence.  Mrs.  Howard 
gazed  from  one  to  another  waiting  for  someone  to 
speak. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  tells  us  you  are  engaged  to  him," 
Dallas  said  finally  in  a  voice  that  was  icy  cold. 

"  And  I  tell  them  it's  to  me  you're  engaged,"  spoke 
up  Michael  promptly.  "  Or  meaning  to  be  when 
you've  played  with  me  long  enough." 

Farrell  shook  his  head  as  if  the  end  of  all  things 
had  come.  "  Mother !  Mother !  What  a  dis- 
grace !  "  He  sank  into  a  chair,  quite  beyond  conso- 
lation. 

"  Eleanor,  won't  you  tell  us  yourself?  "  continued 
Dallas  severely.  "  Surely  this  is  not  true !  " 

Mrs.  Howard  affected  to  take  it  all  slightly.  She 
spoke  up  coquettishly,  "  I  don't  think  it's  true.  I 
am  sure  I  never  really  said  *  yes '  to  anyone." 

Dallas  was  deeply  hurt.  He  looked  at  her  with  a 
peculiar  expression,  saying,  "  You're  —  not  —  quite 
—  sure,"  and  then  went  to  the  balcony. 

"  So  you  mean  to  cast  me  off?  "  snarled  Thomas, 
advancing  again. 

"  My  dear  Amos,"  she  answered,  "  call  it  what 
you  like,  it  doesn't  interest  me." 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  191 

She  dismissed  him  abruptly,  feeling  quite  sure 
that  he  was  dangerous  only  when  alone. 

Thomas  glared  and  then,  sweeping  all  with  his 
cane,  said,  "  I'll  not  talk  about  it  now  before  these 
idlers;  but  you  haven't  finished  with  me.  I'll  come 
back."  He  turned  and  strutted  pompously  out  of 
the  room.  No  one  said  a  word  to  him. 

"  Now  the  Irishman ! "  Mrs.  Howard  turned  to 
Doyle.  He  came  close  to  her  with  an  appealing  look. 

"  You'll  forgive  me  for  speakin'  up,"  he  begged 
softly,  "  but  Farrell  here  seemed  so  undone  by  seein' 
me  on  the  balcony,  and  I  thought  ye'd  not  mind  if  I 
said  it." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Michael,"  she  did  not  want  to  hurt 
him,  "  but  I  wish  you  had  not  said  what  you  did." 
She  felt  angry  for  the  first  time.  She  saw  the  posi- 
tion in  which  she  had  been  placed.  "  I  wonder  what 
these  gentlemen,  Mr.  Dallas  and  Mr.  Strong,  must 
think  of  me?"  She  was  almost  tearful.  "I  can 
understand  the  Socialist's  saying  it  —  but  you ! 
Now  I  am  angry  with  you,  Irishman,  furiously 
angry ! " 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,  I'll  come  to-morrow,"  he 
returned  sincerely. 

"  I  said  good-night  to  you  once,  Irishman,"  she 
said  frankly.  "  Now  it's  good-bye." 


192          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  he  asked,  really  perturbed. 
"  Do  ye  want  me  to  go?  " 

"  Good-bye,  Irishman,"  she  said  finally. 

"  It  was  just  the  bartender  that  made  me  lose 
ye ! "  He  was  quite  angry  with  himself.  Then  he 
turned  to  her  with  his  most  winning  smile.  "  I'll  be 
around  bright  and  early  in  the  morning,  Widow,  to 
really  say  good-bye."  He  hurried  out  so  quickly 
that  he  effectually  prevented  further  reproval. 

"  No  one  could  be  angry  with  you  long,"  she 
called  after  him. 

He  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door  long  enough  to 
say,  "  God  love  ye,  don't  try." 

"  I  hope,  Ellie,  that  you  are  satisfied  now,"  re- 
proved Mrs.  Brinton.  "  For  my  part  I  think  you 
deserved  it.  I  only  hope  people  don't  hear  of  it. 
Come,  John."  She  went  to  the  door,  really  quite 
vexed. 

"  If  that  man  Thomas  is  troublesome  I  would  sug- 
gest that  Farrell  have  him  arrested,"  suggested 
Strong.  "  He's  quite  crazy  enough  to  do  anything. 
What  a  pity  Michael  made  such  a  fool  of  himself." 
He  turned  to  Dallas.  "  Well,  you  were  looking  for 
trouble  with  the  Brookline  widow,  I  think  you 
have  it." 

"  Now,  Mother,  you  see  what  this  sort  of  thing 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  193 

leads  to."  Farrell  thought  it  was  all  over.  "  Come 
back  to  Brookline  with  me  to-night." 

Mrs.  Howard  turned  on  him  with  unexpected  vio- 
lence. "  This  is  too  much.  Farrell  Howard,  if  you 
don't  leave  this  room  in  one  minute,  I  will  box  your 
ears,  or  spank  you.  Do  you  hear  me?  Go  home." 
She  bristled  up  to  him  formidably  and  he  retreated 
towards  the  door,  gazing  on  her  in  amazement.  He 
had  never  seen  her  so  roused. 

"  Mind  me,  go  home !  "  She  stamped  her  foot  as 
he  hesitated.  It  was  too  much  for  Farrell.  He  ran 
out  hastily  and  she  threw  herself  against  the  door 
with  a  pathetic  cry  of  exhaustion. 

"  Everyone  is  picking,  picking ! "  she  wailed. 
"  My  nerves  are  on  edge  — " 

She  then  turned  breathlessly  to  see  what  Dallas  was 
doing.  He  had  not  moved,  but  still  stood  in  the 
doorway  of  the  little  balcony,  his  arms  behind  his 
back  and  his  head  bent  a  little.  A  thousand  emo- 
tions seemed  to  be  surging  through  him.  She  waited 
for  him  to  speak,  but  he  did  not,  so  she  took  a  long 
breath  and  crossed  over  to  him. 

"  Oh,  Dal,  wasn't  that  awful !  "  she  confessed.  "  I 
feel  so  dragged  about  and  discussed.  How  could 
they?  Before  everyone.  I  am  so  upset.  Even 
Peg  is  angry.  And  the  worst  of  it  all  is,  I  don't 


194          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

care.  I  am  tired  of  them  all.  I  believe  I'll  go 
home  to-morrow." 

As  Dallas  did  not  answer  her,  she  continued  ner- 
vously, "  Dal." 

He  closed  the  balcony  doors  and  turned.  For  the 
first  time  since  she  had  met  him,  she  felt  him  watch 
her  a  trifle  coldly  before  he  answered.  "  Yes,  Mrs. 
Howard." 

The  "  Mrs.  Howard  "  made  her  wince.  She  took 
a  step  nearer  to  him. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  to  blame  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Well,  I  suppose  I  am.  I  flirted  and  flirted  horribly. 
But  it  wasn't  half  so  —  so  —  You're  different,  you 
know.  Do  forgive  me."  She  put  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  but  he  did  not  even  seem  pleased.  "  How  could 
they ! "  She  said  a  little  hysterically.  "  Before 
everyone!  Before  you.  Dal,  you  haven't  spoken 
a  word.  Don't  say  you  are  angry  or  I  shall  cry. 
I  am  so  tired  and  so  nervous." 

She  sank  on  the  sofa,  almost  in  tears.  This  was 
too  much  for  him.  He  went  over  to  her  and  looked 
at  her  tenderly.  He  hadn't  realised  until  the  other 
men  seemed  so  sure  of  her  how  much  she  meant  to 
him. 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  Amos  Thomas  ?  "  he 
asked  quietly. 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  195 

Mrs.  Howard  writhed.  "  You  know  I  am  not. 
His  face  is  quite  crooked." 

"  His  face  was  always  crooked,  but  you  never 
noticed  it  till  now  —  and  Michael  ?  "  Dallas  con- 
tinued. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Michael  is  a  cave  man. 
No,  never  Michael.  I've  found  him  out." 

Dallas  smiled.  "  And  Michael  has  always  been  a 
cave  man.  Will  you  marry  me  ?  "  He  could  hear 
his  own  heart  beat,  as  he  waited. 

"  Would  you  be  very  good  to  me,  Dal?  "  She 
rose  and  stood  looking  at  him. 

"  Try  me,"  he  said  softly. 

Her  voice  was  full  of  emotion.  "  Dallas,  I  want 
you  to  believe  me.  No  one  has  ever  cared,  really 
cared,  and  I  am  very  lonely  and  longing  to  be  looked 
after.  Oh,  I  can  love,"  she  said.  "  I  can  give  it 
back  to  you  beat  for  beat,  and  I  will  if  only  you 
will  always  understand.  It's  like  some  mad  thing 
inside  of  me  struggling  to  get  out.  It  tears  and 
pulls  me,  and  I  laugh  at  it.  But  I  know  it  will 
make  me  weep  some  day,  or  break  my  heart  per- 
haps — " 

Dallas,  quite  as  moved  as  she,  returned,  "  I  am 
fifty-two  years  old,  and  I  have  cared  for  a  great 
many  women.  Some  have  laughed,  and  some  have 


196          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

cried,  and  after  a  little  while  it  didn't  matter.  The 
heart  thing  that  gets  at  men  never  came.  Then  I 
met  you,  and  I  realised  it  had  finally  come.  I  can't 
even  tell  you  why.  I  have  known  so  many  beautiful 
women,  but  there  has  never  really  been  anyone;  the 
others  were  all  shadows.  Since  you  came  I  have 
learned  to  feel,  and  it  has  almost  done  for  me.  I 
am  plunged  all  of  a  sudden  into  a  heaven  or  hell,  in 
which  I  burn  and  freeze  with  your  change  of  mood. 
You  say  there  is  something  in  you  which  struggles 
to  be  left  free.  I  tell  you  there  is  a  passion  eating 
my  heart  out.  No  boy  was  ever  so  insanely  jealous, 
no  lover  of  twenty  more  eager  to  be  loved.  When 
those  two  men  stood  discussing  you  I  could  have 
choked  them  both  with  my  naked  hands.  It  hurt 
me  that  much.  I  cannot  bear  it  much  longer.  Will 
you  trust  your  wonderful  self  to  me?  I  will  be  very 
tender  of  you.  I  could  not  be  anything  else." 

Her  mouth  quivered.  This  great  thing  seemed 
too  wonderful  to  take  now  that  it  was  offered  to  her. 
Womanlike  she  played  with  it.  "  I  wonder  if  it 
could  last,  because  I  do  care  so  much !  Would  it, 
Dal?" 

He  took  hold  of  her  and  held  her  close  to  him  but 
he  did  not  answer.  There  was  a  long  moment,  and 
then  he  said,  "  When  shall  it  be,  dear?  I  am  so 


THE  WIDOW  YIELDS  197 

eager,  so  impatient.  I  want  you.  I  must  have  you 
all  for  myself,  away  from  everyone,  Ellie.  Shall 
we  go  round  the  world  and  spend  a  splendid  year  in 
all  the  beautiful  places?  Will  you  go  with  me  and 
have  the  honeymoon  I've  always  longed  to  take? 
When  I  was  young  I  dreamed  it,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  it  would  never  come  true.  We  shall  go  wherever 
you  will,  and  I  will  forget  business  and  men  and 
things,  and  think  only  of  you." 

She  put  her  face  against  his.  "  Oh,  Dal,  I  have 
always  longed  to  go  round  the  world.  I'm  afraid 
to  be  so  happy.  It  may  not  be  true.  I'm  so  happy 
I  fear  it  will  slip  away,"  she  murmured. 

But  he  held  her  closer.  "  No,  dearest,"  he  said, 
"  this  is  the  real  truth,  that  we  are  together  and 
that  we  care  for  each  other — " 

Mrs.  Howard  put  her  arms  impulsively  about  his 
neck,  and  her  eyes  full  of  the  love  and  longing  he 
had  dreamed  of,  looked  deeply  into  his.  "  Dal,"  she 
said,  and  her  voice  trembled.  "  Why  couldn't  I  have 
had  you  when  I  was  twenty,  J  am  not  young  now, 
and  life  is  no  longer  new." 

He  bent  very  near  to  her  upturned  face.  "  Hush, 
dear,  what's  old  or  young  to  us?"  he  said.  "It's 
love  we  have.  And  love  is  a  big  thing.  Life  was 
never  so  new.  I  have  you  at  last,  close  and  safe. 


198          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

The  touch  of  you  is  so  wonderful!  The  nearness 
of  you  —  God,  what  it  means !  "  His  voice  faltered. 
"  We  are  going  to  have  thousands  of  kisses,  but 
never  forget  this  one,  Ellie,  for  it  is  the  first  —  I 
love  you."  Then  he  kissed  her  on  her  mouth,  lin- 
geringly  and  passionately  but  with  great  tenderness. 
She  stood  held  in  his  arms,  happy  and  at  peace. 


CHAPTER    XV 

HALCYON    DAYS 

THE  days  which  followed  Mrs.  Howard's  engage- 
ment were  at  once  the  most  wonderful  and  the  most 
harrowing  of  her  life.  Dallas  was  lover  to  satisfy 
the  most  exacting  woman.  He  brought  into  the 
weeks  of  wooing  all  of  the  mature  thoughtfulness  and 
consideration  of  his  varied  career  and  engirdled  her 
with  a  tenderness  and  love  that  seemed  too  perfect 
to  be  real.  He  knew  so  well  the  thousand  and  one 
things  that  women  adore,  and  he  remembered  them 
all  for  her.  Day  by  day  he  found  new  ways  to 
please  and  serve  her.  To  Ellie  Howard,  whose  life 
had  been  grey  duty  and  only  coloured  in  pastel,  this 
rose-hued  blaze  of  devotion  was  the  culmination  of 
every  desire  hidden  away  in  her  hungry  heart. 

Her  soul  rose  triumphantly  and  sustained  her 
somewhat  weary  body.  The  first  few  weeks  after 
the  announcement  of  the  engagement  were  spent  at 
Mrs.  Brinton's  in  New  York,  and  the  days  flew 
away  from  her.  All  of  the  turmoil,  discomfort, 
worry  and  uncertainty  passed.  She  was  left  to  enjoy 

the  fascinating  moments   undisturbed.     Farrell  had 

199 


200          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

protested,  of  course,  vehemently,  firmly,  and  at  the 
last  with  real  pathos,  but  even  he  understood  finally 
that  his  mother  was  transformed  into  another  being 
by  this  new  found  happiness.  After  a  few  days  of 
struggling  and  incoherent  argument  he  went  back 
to  Brookline  sadder  and  infinitely  wiser.  He  had 
given  up,  resigning  himself  stiffly  to  the  inevitable. 
At  all  events,  he  felt,  Dallas  was  a  man  of  wealth 
and  position,  of  a  most  suitable  age,  and  highly  re- 
pected  by  all  the  men  who  knew  him.  He  tried  to  con- 
tent himself  with  that,  and  listened  in  chill  silence  to 
the  surprised  congratulations  of  his  mother's  many 
old  friends. 

Thomas  disposed  of  definitely,  Mrs.  Howard  still 
had  waves  of  conscience  over  Michael  Doyle.  For 
she  knew  well,  even  if  Dallas  did  not,  that  she  was 
largely  to  blame  for  the  Irishman's  outburst  on  the 
memorable  afternoon  when  all  of  her  musketeers  had 
met  and  fought  one  by  one  the  battle  of  his  life 
and  hers.  It  wasn't  a  pleasing  recollection  and  she 
blamed  herself  severely.  About  Thomas  she  was 
comfortable,  for  she  knew  that  he  had  deserved  to 
be  punished  for  his  impertinence.  In  fact,  now  that 
she  had  dismissed  him,  it  was  difficult  for  her  to 
understand  why  she  ever  had  tolerated  him  at  all. 
She  could  not  recall  even  the  fact  that  he  had 


HALCYON  DAYS  201 

amused  her.  The  remembrance  of  the  long  hours 
spent  alone  with  him,  listening  to  his  extraordinary 
doctrines  and  unconventional  theories,  seemed  a  wild 
sort  of  indiscretion  in  which  she  could  hardly  believe 
she  was  ever  mad  enough  to  indulge.  She  knew 
Thomas  returned  from  time  to  time  to  see  her,  but 
she  sent  Anna  as  regularly  to  dismiss  him.  His 
quaint  bouquets  and  his  violent  notes  were  put  aside 
unnoticed.  She  refused  to  think  of  him  seriously, 
but  Doyle  was  quite  another  matter.  Deep  down  in 
her  soul  she  had  been  very  fond  of  the  Irishman, 
and  she  realised  that  his  tempestuous  wooing  had 
opened  her  eyes  as  nothing  else  had,  to  hidden  traits 
of  her  own  that  even  she  had  not  known  existed. 
There  was  something  splendidly  primitive  about 
Doyle.  Despite  the  years  of  careful  repression  and 
his  outward  veneer  he  was  absolutely  unspoiled  and 
natural  in  real  moments  of  feeling.  And  his  love 
for  her  had  been  a  warm,  sincere  one.  She  realised 
that,  even  while  she  played  with  it.  AH  this  caused 
her  more  real  regret  than  anything  that  had  come 
to  pass  since  she  broke  away  from  her  blameless 
Brookline  environment.  The  remorse  about  Michael 
even  went  deep  enough  to  re-awaken  her  dormant 
New  England  conscience,  which  she  had  supposed 
was  asleep  for  all  time. 


202          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

The  Irishman  had  not  kept  his  word  about  coming 
round  in  the  morning  to  say  good-bye.  He  had  not 
come  at  all,  and  this  silence  had  touched  her  as  no 
words  could  have  done.  She  knew  Doyle  had  been 
hurt  and  disappointed.  The  consciousness  of  that 
continually  marred  her  otherwise  joyous  days.  Of 
course,  she  saw  him.  He  was  too  much  a  part  of  the 
circle  in  which  Margaret  Brinton  moved  to  be  left 
out  of  the  round  of  gaiety  that  followed  Mrs. 
Howard's  engagement.  And  when  they  did  meet  at 
the  theatre,  dinner,  dance  or  reception,  he  was  always 
charming  and  merry  and  full  of  the  good  nature 
which  she  so  loved  in  him.  He  never  spoke  to  her 
of  that  fearful  afternoon,  nor  of  his  dismissal,  but 
he  congratulated  her  pleasantly  and  seemed  to  be 
on  as  excellent  terms  with  Dallas  as  he  had  been 
before  she  came  to  disturb  the  even  tenor  of  their 
friendship.  Doyle  had  not  lived  in  the  fashionable 
world  all  those  years  for  nothing.  His  earlier  life 
had  been  a  continuous  struggle  and  the  lucky  chance 
that  gave  him  his  first  opportunity  was  still  fresh 
in  his  memory.  He  had  never  before  really  wanted 
to  marry  any  woman ;  although  he  had  had  countless 
love  affairs.  But  Mrs.  Howard  had  entered  into  his 
life  as  no  one  else  had  ever  done.  He  really  loved 
her  with  all  the  warmth  and  feeling  of  his  kindly 


HALCYON  DAYS  203 

heart,  and  she  had  roused  in  him,  as  he  had  told 
her,  all  of  the  bad  as  well  as  all  of  the  good. 

He  had  been  most  confident  of  success,  finding  the 
widow  at  first  so  sweet,  so  alluring,  so  generous  in 
her  fashion  of  playing  with  him  that  he  had  never 
doubted  her  sincerity.  He  had  been  jealous  of 
Dallas  but  he  did  not  really  think  the  other  would 
be  able  to  take  Mrs.  Howard  away  from  him.  Dallas 
seemed  to  him  to  be  cold  and  lacking  in  the  ardour 
he  felt  Mrs.  Howard  demanded.  And  he  was  not 
sure  how  much  Dallas  cared,  for  he  was  always  the 
well-bred  man  of  the  world.  The  end  was  a  great 
shock  to  the  Irishman's  vanity  as  well  as  a  blow  at 
his  heart.  He  had  been  filled  with  the  sincerest 
emotion  of  his  fifty  years.  He  felt  sore,  defeated 
and  hurt  to  the  quick.  His  pride  served  as  the 
cover  for  all  his  humiliation  and  he  was  determined 
his  world  should  never  know  the  extent  of  his  wound. 
He  never  blamed  Dallas,  for  the  latter  had  been  quite 
fair  with  him  during  it  all.  But  towards  Mrs. 
Howard  he  cherished  a  deep  hurt.  She  had  made  a 
fool  of  him,  and  that  was  hard  to  bear. 

Meantime  Dallas,  more  in  love  than  he  had  known 
he  could  ever  be,  revelled  in  the  days.  He  felt  anew 
the  sweetness  and  the  charm  of  the  Brookline  widow. 
She  had  never  seemed  so  beautiful  nor  so  desirable. 


The  happiness  which  had  come  to  her  so  late  in  life 
seemed  to  make  her  fairly  radiant. 

As  no  season  is  more  wonderful  than  that  of  In- 
dian summer  when  a  mature  year  yields  to  a  bland 
atmosphere,  divine  golden  lights  and  autumnal  tran- 
quillity, so  were  those  early  days  of  Mrs.  Howard's 
happiness  filled  with  colour  and  shade  of  a  sort  that 
a  younger  and  less  experienced  mind  never  knows. 
She  basked  in  the  warmth  of  the  time  and  the  experi- 
ence, not  caring  to  think  back  and  not  daring  to 
look  into  a  future  which  must  mark  the  passing  of 
life's  autumn  into  winter.  But  an  intuitive  sense 
of  time  warned  her  to  make  the  most  of  the  days. 

Always  she  yearned  for  Dallas  the  moment  he 
was  away.  Not  that  he  was  long  absent  from  her 
side.  He  probed  the  resources  of  the  city  for  her 
diversion  and  entertainment.  They  lunched,  dined, 
supped,  went  to  the  theatre  and  opera,  took  long 
drives  in  his  cars  and  spent  beautiful  late  May  and 
early  June  hours  in  dreamy  happiness  as  the  motor 
ran  smoothly  over  favoured  roads  with  views  of  sea 
or  river. 

Dallas,  however,  was  not  so  willing  to  ignore  the 
future.  His  masculinity  continually  asserted  itself 
in  the  desire  for  plans  and  programme.  He  wanted 
the  day  set  for  the  marriage,  he  insisted  on  outlining 


HALCYON  DAYS  205 

the  wonderful  journey  of  a  year  or  more  that  was  to 
be  the  honey-moon.  Into  the  plans  for  a  wedding 
late  in  life  he  threw  much  of  the  energy  and  the  rosy 
optimism  of  a  far  younger  man.  And,  really,  under 
the  spur  of  awakened  emotion  and  the  concentration 
of  all  his  time  and  interests  on  the  attractive  widow 
he  felt  that  he  had  renewed  his  youth.  He  threw 
aside  his  middle-aged  cynicism  as  to  men  and  women, 
he  came  as  promptly  and  eagerly  for  his  many  ap- 
pointments as  a  smitten  youth  of  nineteen,  and  all  of 
his  movements  were  accomplished  with  a  decisive 
vigour  which  had  not  marked  his  goings  and  comings 
for  many  years. 

One  late  May  day  he  came  in  mid-afternoon  to  take 
her  out  in  the  motor.  Piloted  up  the  steps  he  knew 
so  well  by  the  faithful  and  thoroughly  pleased  Metz 
he  walked  into  Mrs.  Howard's  sitting-room  with  the 
blithe  and  athletic  spirit  of  one-and-twenty.  Since 
the  engagement  he  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  bring- 
ing each  day  a  nose-gay  of  old-fashioned  flowers. 
They  pleased  his  widow,  who  frequently  saw  in  them 
many  of  the  inanimate  friends  of  her  mid- Victorian 
Brookline  garden. 

"  Put  these  in  some  water  before  they  fade  in 
this  warm  afternoon  air,  Metz,"  he  directed. 

The  loquacity  of  Metz  had  not  been  lessened  at 


206          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

all  by  the  culmination  of  the  romance  underneath 
Mrs.  Brinton's  roof.  He  took  the  flowers  from 
Dallas  sentimentally.  He  went  through  a  similar 
performance  each  day. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Dallas,  but  these  are 
old-fashioned  flowers,  are  they  not?  "  the  lean  and 
dry  old  servant  asked  in  a  tone  quite  out  of  keeping 
with  his  perfunctory  occupation. 

"  So  they  are,  Metz." 

"  Mrs.  Howard  has  sent  some  of  these  quaint  bou- 
quets down  to  us  in  the  kitchen  as  they  had  begun 
to  wilt  and  Cook  has  accomplished  much  with  them, 
sir.  Can  you  imagine  what  she  does  with  them,  sir, 
if  I  may  be  pardoned  for  asking  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Metz,  what  does  she  do  with  them? 
I  had  always  thought  wilted  flowers  were  hopeless." 

"  I  am  sure  Mr.  Dallas  will  excuse  me  if  I  tell 
him  that  Cook  has  at  least  a  dozen  of  his  nose-gays 
still." 

"  It  sounds  to  me,  Metz,  as  if  she  were  conducting 
a  floral  morgue." 

Metz  chuckled  apologetically,  stifling  a  laugh 
which  he  knew  was  out  of  his  role  as  a  servant. 
"  Would  you  believe,  sir,  she  dries  them,  sir,  and 
with  extraordinary  success,  sir.  They  retain  their 
form,  sir,  and  a  hint  of  their  fragrance.  I  wouldn't 


HALCYON  DAYS  £07 

go  so  far  as  to  say  that  they  keep  their  colour,  but 
it  pleases  Cook  and  she  places  them  at  the  sides  of 
her  pictures  and  in  fancy  bottles  goods  sometimes 
come  in.  She  takes  no  end  of  satisfaction  in  them." 

Dallas  laughed  as  Metz  bowed  out,  apologising  as 
usual  for  having  let  his  tongue  wag  so  long. 

Mrs.  Howard  came  from  her  dressing-room  a  mo- 
ment later  beautifully  dressed  in  a  bluish  suit  and 
adroitly  matched  hat  and  slippers,  all  of  which  em- 
phasised skilfully  her  pastel  charm.  Under  the 
tutelage  of  Anna  and  Mrs.  Brinton  she  had  learned 
to  underscore  her  physical  "  points "  through  her 
clothing,  instead  of  disguising  them  as  she  always 
had  done  in  Brookline. 

Dallas  rushed  to  her  and  kissed  her  tenderly  on 
lip  and  hand.  "  Oh !  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he 
cried  exultantly.  "  I  haven't  seen  you  for  ten 
years." 

"  Is  it  that  long  since  %  o'clock?  "  she  asked  with 
eyes  aglow. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  returned  with  youthful 
extravagance.  "  It  was  twelve  years  ago." 

"  And  where  are  we  going  now  ?  Some  quiet  place, 
I  hope,  where  there  aren't  too  many  people.  I  want 
long  views  of  river  and  sky,  for  I'm  sentimental 
to-day  and  I  must  dream." 


208          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  All  right,  I  know  the  very  spot.  And  you  have 
never  been  there." 

"  Oh,  I  would  love  a  new  place  to  go.  I  am  so 
tired  of  Clareraont  and  Sleepy  Hollow.  No  one 
in  New  York  seems  able  to  think  of  anywhere  else." 

He  helped  her  down  the  stairs  tenderly  and  they 
were  soon  rolling  smoothly  in  his  big  French  car. 

"  Not  too  fast,  now,  Pemberton,"  she  said,  speak- 
ing to  Dallas'  chauffeur. 

Pemberton  touched  his  hat  deferentially  and  looked 
hopelessly  to  Dallas,  who  nodded  confirmation  of 
Mrs.  Howard's  order. 

"  You  know,  Pemberton  is  complaining  bitterly  of 
your  pace,  Ellie,"  explained  Dallas.  "  It  is  the 
pride  of  his  life  that  he  can  pass  anything  on  the 
road  with  this  new  French  machine.  If  he  can't  get 
round  any  other  way  he  insists  that  the  machine  will 
fly  at  its  highest  speed." 

"  Now,  Dal,  don't  ever  let  it  happen  when  I'm 
along,"  she  objected.  "  I  was  brought  up  behind 
the  staidest  family  team  that  ever  meandered  through 
the  streets  of  Brookline.  Motors  make  me  nervous 
enough,  anyway,  without  having  them  go  fast." 

"  Ellie,  dear,  I'll  have  him  crawl  if  it  would  make 
you  any  happier.  I  don't  know  how  or  where  we 
are  going  so  long  as  you  are  sitting  here."  She 


HALCYON  DAYS  209 

slipped  her  hand  into  his  and  sighed  contentedly. 
The  afternoon  light  seemed  of  a  sudden  to  pour  gold 
out  over  the  green  and  blooming  landscape.  They 
were  getting  far  into  the  northerly  outskirts  of  the 
city  now  and  to  their  left  there  were  from  time  to 
time  lovely  views  of  the  sheety  Hudson  flowing  like  a 
vast  stained-glass  plane  under  a  sky  of  even  deeper 
blue.  The  beauty  of  it  all  and  the  wonder  of  her 
happiness  poured  in  on  her  soul  in  a  vast  surge. 

"Oh,  Dal!"  she  cried.  "It's  perfect,  isn't  it? 
And  you  are  more  perfect,  still ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not,"  he  objected,  smiling  happily 
on  her,  "  it's  just  the  wonder  of  life  at  its  best. 
What  a  world  this  would  be  if  everyone  felt  this 
way  always !  " 

"  Oh,  Dal !  I  hope  and  pray  continually  that  this 
may  last  always !  " 

"  If  it  only  would ! "  he  echoed  fervently. 

After  running  for  an  hour  or  more  along  a  road 
that  grew  increasingly  attractive  and  diversified, 
they  turned  toward  the  river  and  quite  high  above 
the  water  stopped  at  a  quaint  and  old-fashioned  inn, 
with  a  screened  porch,  on  which  there  were  half  a 
dozen  tables. 

They  had  the  place  quite  to  themselves  and  while 
Dallas  was  conferring  with  the  waiter  as  to  food  and 


210          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

drink,  Mrs.  Howard  had  time  to  feast  herself  on 
the  beauty  of  the  river.  South  it  slipped  far  away 
to  the  dim  and  hazy  towers  of  the  great  city,  while 
to  the  north  it  wandered  through  its  stark  palisades 
to  open  reaches  which  invited  the  imagination  to  all 
sorts  of  enrapturing  speculations. 

She  was  brought  back  from  her  land  of  dreams  by 
Dallas,  who  took  from  his  pocket  innumerable  folders 
and  tables. 

"  What  are  all  of  those  things  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Here  we  have  the  trip !  "  he  exclaimed,  waving 
the  bundle  back  and  forth.  "  The  great  and  won- 
derful trip,  the  trip  that  Ellie  and  Dal  are  to  make !  " 

"  Oh,  Dal,"  Mrs.  Howard's  face  fell,  "  do  we  have 
to  go  to  all  the  places  in  all  those  folders  ?  " 

He  was  running  through  steamer  schedules  and 
foreign  railway  guides  eagerly.  The  globe-trotter's 
hunger  for  a  journey  was  again  on  him.  Her 
despairing  glance  had  escaped  him. 

"  I  am  going  to  show  you  all  the  wonderful  places 
I  know,"  he  said,  "  just  made  for  lovers  —  ideal 
scenery,  splendid  hotels,  places  where  the  comfort 
of  both  soul  and  body  is  studied." 

"  My,  how  many  places  there  seem  to  be  in  Eu- 
rope ! "  She  glanced  at  a  map. 

"Don't  joke,  Ellie,  dear,  you  know  we  both  have 


HALCYON  DAYS  211 

set  our  hearts  on  going  round  the  world  together  in 
a  marvellous,  year-long  honeymoon." 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed,  noting  his  eagerness  and  ear- 
nestness. No  young  collegian  setting  face  to  the  old 
world  for  the  first  time  could  have  been  more  ab- 
sorbed in  his  plans. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you've  been  abroad?  "  he 
asked  after  several  minutes  of  his  beloved  maps  and 
folders. 

"  1  never  went  but  once  and  then  with  father," 
she  returned.  "  It  was  when  I  was  fourteen  or 
fifteen,  long  before  Americans  went  abroad  very 
much.  I  recall  Germany  as  a  huge  statuary  gallery 
surrounded  entirely  by  trees  under  which  peasants 
sat  drinking  beer.  Italy  was  the  driest  and  dustiest 
country  I  ever  had  seen.  Father  and  I  amused  each 
other  in  a  contest  to  see  who  could  see  the  most 
St.  Sebastians  in  the  art  galleries.  I  saw  so  many 
I  lost  count." 

"  I  can  take  you  to  plenty  of  other  countries,"  he 
returned  cheerfully.  "  Leave  the  trip  to  me.  I 
snow  what  you  like.  I'll  find  out  all  the  bright,  gay, 
in-Puritan  places  and  take  you  to  them.  Ellie, 
dear,  I  don't  want  to  be  insistent  —  but  we  must  de- 
cide on  a  day  for  the  wedding.  We  aren't  foolish 
young  lovers  who  can  go  on  living  forever  on  hope. 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

We  both  are  mature  and  know  our  own  minds. 
Please  say  when !  "  He  looked  at  her  imploringly. 

"Oh,  Dal,  can't  we  go  on  just  as  we  are?  I'm 
so  happy  and  it  has  been  so  wonderful." 

"  But,  dear,  I  want  you  —  all  of  you,  all  of  your 
hours.  Now  I  barely  get  half  your  time.  Half  a 
loaf  is  nothing  to  a  man  who  has  been  starving 
all  his  life." 

She  saw  clearly  that  his  impatience  was  growing. 
He  had  been  growing  more  and  more  insistent.  She 
knew  she  could  not  hold  out  much  longer  and  then  — 
there  was  the  future  which  she  had  so  resolutely 
turned  from  all  these  happy  days. 

"  Dal,  dear,  would  it  make  you  any  happier  if 
we  didn't  wait?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh ! "  he  exclaimed  happily.  "  If  you  only 
would!  Really,  I  can't  be  patient  much  longer.  I 
am  so  hungry  for  you,  so  eager  to  make  you  abso- 
lutely mine." 

"  Very  well,  if  it  will  make  you  happier,  it  shall 
be  as  soon  as  I  can  get  my  trousseau  ready.  But 
I  have  one  request." 

"  Anything  in  the  world  in  my  power  is  yours  for 
the  asking." 

"  It  must  be  in  the  old  house  at  Brookline,"  she 
said,  with  her  eyes  filling.  "  I  have  a  sentiment 


HALCYON  DAYS 

about  my  own  roof.  I  want  to  bring  my  real  happi- 
ness under  it." 

"I   would  love  that!" 

"  You  always  understand,  Dal." 

As  they  went  back  to  the  city  Dallas  was  unusually 
talkative.  But  she  was  strangely  silent.  The  som- 
breness  of  the  lengthening  shadows  of  the  late  day 
crept  into  her  heart.  She  was  afraid  of  something. 
She  hardly  knew  what  it  was.  It  surely  wasn't  a 
fear  of  the  hand  that  pressed  hers.  She  did  not 
dare  look  ahead  clearly  to  see  what  was  coming. 
And  she  dreaded  above  all  really  revealing  herself. 

After  he  left  her  Dallas  went  back  to  his  club, 
elated  and  full  of  contentment.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  when  he  and  Mrs.  Howard  started  out  that 
afternoon  that  he  would  try  very  hard  to  persuade 
her  to  set  the  day  for  their  union,  and  he  felt  a  just 
pride  in  his  success.  He  was  remarkably  intelligent 
about  women,  and  much  more  skilful  in  dealing  with 
them  than  the  average  man  was,  and  he  had  realised 
for  some  time  that  Ellie  was  not  very  keen  on  being 
married.  She  had  put  him  off  cleverly  again  and 
again,  and  he  knew  it  would  take  very  little  to  make 
her  do  it  indefinitely.  Like  most  men  of  strong  per- 
sonality once  he  gave  himself  up  to  a  conviction  he 
let  it  take  possession  of  him,  and  having  made  up 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

his  mind  to  marry  Ellie  Howard,  and  live  the  remain- 
der of  his  life  out  with  her,  he  wa«  as  eager  as  a  bay 
to  bring  the  engagement  to  an  end  and  make  her  his 
wife.  As  he  had  told  her  the  day  she  promised  to 
marry  him,  he  had  cared  for  a  great  many  other 
women,  but  she  was  the  only  one  he  had  ever  asked 
to  be  his  wife.  He  did  not  wonder  that  she  hesi- 
tated about  marrying  anyone.  It  was  not  easy  to 
change  one's  entire  scheme  of  existence  to  fit  in 
with  someone  else.  He  had  his  own  qualms  at 
various  times ;  when  he  looked  about  his  comfortable 
quarters  and  saw  the  luxury  that  only  a  bachelor  club 
man  can  ever  hope  to  secure,  surrounding  him  on 
every  side.  He  also  often  felt  the  discomforts  of 
tight  shoes  and  waistcoats,  and  the  desire  for  a  nap 
during  the  day  was  getting  to  be  a  persistent  weak- 
ness. Twinges  of  gout  had  made  themselves  felt 
more  often  lately,  and  he  found  it  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  read  without  his  glasses.  But  Dallas,  like 
Mrs.  Brinton,  had  been  putting  up  a  fight  over  crea- 
ture comfort  for  years.  And  he  had  learned  by 
grim  stoicism  to  rise  above  the  little  comfortable, 
lazy  things  that  tended  towards  fat  and  an  increased 
waist  line.  It  had  ceased  to  be  a  struggle  and  became 
second  nature  to  him.  His  cold  plunge  and  brisk 


HALCYON  DAYS  215 

walk;  his  daily  rubdown  and  rigorous  regime  of 
diet  and  hygiene  were  followed  now  without  a  break. 
And  he  little  dreamed  that  what  it  had  taken  him 
years  of  persistent  personal  sacrifice  to  attain,  in 
figure  and  bearing,  Mrs.  Howard  had  managed  to 
acquire  overnight.  To  him  she  was  the  most  desir- 
able and  exquisite  woman  he  had  ever  seen,  and  her 
charm  was  so  elusive  and  peculiarly  her  own,  that  he 
never  dreamed  it  could  be  artifice.  To-day  she  had 
been  so  sweet  and  womanly  that  a  new  feeling  of 
adoration  stole  into  his  heart.  He  felt,  anew,  her 
vibrant  femininity,  her  wonderfully  youthful  enthusi- 
asm. She  was  always  alive  and  responsive  to  his 
slightest  touch  or  caress,  and  each  kiss  he  gave  her 
seemed  more  wonderful  than  the  last.  He  felt  a 
little  nervous  fear  that  he  might  not  be  young 
enough  for  her;  and  that  his  more  mature  passion 
might  pall  on  her  after  the  glamour  of  the  honey- 
moon had  worn  away.  But  he  was  too  much  in  love 
to  let  that  deter  him,  he  thought  earnestly  that  per- 
haps he  was  letting  down  a  little,  and  that  would 
never  do.  He  would  sleep  less  and  walk  more,  he 
had  been  eating  too  many  luncheons  and  drinking 
too  much  champagne,  that  was  all.  He  squared  his 
handsome  shoulders  and  registered  an  inward  deter- 


216          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

urination  to  be  less  easy  with  himself.  Ellie  should 
find  him  on  his  mettle.  He  would  not  disappoint 
her  in  anything.  And  meanwhile  he  must  order  a 
lot  of  new  clothes  and  take  off  at  least  ten  pounds. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WOOIXG    BY    THEORY 

AMOS  THOMAS,  though  no  longer  able  to  air  his 
theories  to  the  mingled  alarm  and  amusement  of 
the  Widow  Howard,  was  not  without  solace.  He 
had  tried  frequently  enough  to  see  her,  but  each  time 
he  called  she  sent  Anna  down  to  dispose  of  him.  The 
maid  was  definitely  instructed  to  stay  below  until 
Thomas  had  unmistakably  taken  his  leave.  Mrs. 
Howard  wanted  to  be  sure  he  did  not  force  his  way 
in  again  as  he  had  on  that  memorable  afternoon 
which  led  to  his  dismissal. 

But,  to  go  back  to  that  important  day,  something 
else  had  happened  then  which  concerned  only  Anna 
and  the  Socialist.  As  Thomas  reached  the  foot  of 
the  stairway,  after  leaving  Mrs.  Howard's  sitting- 
room,  he  heard  a  light  footstep  behind  him  and  turned 
to  find  the  sympathetic  face  of  Anna  looking  into 
his.  He  regarded  her  with  sudden  hope. 

"Mrs.  Howard  has  sent  for  me  to  come  back?'* 
he  asked  quickly. 

"  No,  Monsieur  Thomas,"  she  returned,  the  colour 
flaming  a  little  in  her  cheeks. 

217 


218          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"What  is  it,  then?"  He  surveyed  her  plentiful 
charms  hungrily  and  forgot  for  the  moment  his 
anger  and  chagrin. 

"  I  am  so,  so  sorry  for  Monsieur,"  she  said 
sympathetically.  "  Perhaps  he  would  come  and  sit 
a  moment  in  the  dining-room  while  I  get  him  some- 
thing to  warm  him  up.  I  fear  he  has  caught  a  cold 
from  the  long  time  on  the  fire-escape." 

"  Really,  that's  awfully  kind  of  you.  I  do  need 
a  drop."  He  followed  her  as  she  showed  him  the 
way  and  then  sat  with  a  new  curiosity  while  she  hur- 
ried off  to  the  butler's  pantry. 

She  was  back  in  a  moment  with  a  tray  on  which 
she  had  placed  a  bit  of  wine  and  cake.  She  handled 
it  with  a  Gallic  deftness  which  pleased  him  immensely. 
He  noted  her  youth,  her  grace,  her  foreign  charm  of 
manner.  True,  she  was  a  servant,  but  class  to 
Thomas  was  one  of  the  abominations  of  a  civilisa- 
tion he  affected  to  despise  highly  and  he  was  quite 
as  ready  to  have  an  affair  with  maid  as  with 
mistress. 

He  continued  to  regard  her  between  sips  and  bites. 
"  Anna,"  he  began  with  the  wine  glass  in  one  hand  and 
the  cake  in  the  other,  "  do  you  know  that  you  have 
great  possibilities  ?  " 

"  Merci,  Monsieur,"  she  replied,  dropping  a  pretty 


WOOING  BY  THEORY  219 

courtesy.  "  You  mean  I  will  have  the  success  with 
the  ladies  I  make  ready  ?  " 

"Not  at  all."  He  looked  her  over  boldly.  She 
stood  his  scrutiny  calmly. 

"  I  fear  Monsieur  flatters  me,"  she  said.  "  He  is 
very  kind  to  notice  a  poor,  young  girl  who  has  no 
friends.  For  me  I  am  very  sorry  for  Monsieur. 
Madame  is  not  at  all  nice  to  him.  She  has  been  most 
unkind  and  I  feel,  oh,  so  badly,  Monsieur  Thomas! 
I  weep  that  you  have  been  treated  so  amd  Monsieur 
was  so  impetuous  a  lover,  del,  he  has,  what  you 
call  it,  the  grand  manner  in  the  affaire  de  coeur. 
My  countrywomen,  they  would  all  love  him." 

"  Anna,  you  interest  me  singularly.  Tell  me 
about  yourself." 

"  Non,  non,  Monsieur,  there  is  nothing  to  tell.  I 
am  just  a  poor,  young  girl  who  has  the  misfortune  to 
have  to  earn  her  own  living.  And  to  be  honest  with 
Monsieur  I  am  not  French  at  all,  I  am  Swiss.  My 
father  and  my  mother  had  a  little  hotel  in  the  Enga- 
dine,  but  they  die  when  I  am  young  and  I  must  make 
my  way  as  I  can.  It  is  not  easy.  I  have  done  many 
things,  but  always  I  try  to  improve  myself." 

"  That's  right,  Anna,  you  are  a  wise  girl.  But  how 
did  you  get  to  America?  " 

"  I  went  with  a  French  lady  as  her  maid  to  Italy. 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

We  do  not  understand  each  other.  I  leave  her  in 
Rome  and  I  engage  with  an  English  lady.  She  is 
worse  than  the  French  lady  and  then  I  find  an  Ameri- 
can lady  who  bring  me  to  Boston  and  there  Mrs.  How- 
ard take  me.  But  I  am  growing  tired  of  her.  She 
do  not  appreciate  what  I  do  for  her.  Already  she 
complain  of  her  clothes  and  she  must  eat  and  she 
must  sleep  and  she  must  have  comfort." 

"  Ah,"  interrupted  Thomas,  "  the  butterfly  is  find- 
ing her  wings  a  burden." 

"  Bah ! "  cried  Anna,  "  I  could  tear  her  hair  out 
when  she  is  so  silly  and  stupid.  She  has  so  much 
money  and  she  does  so  little  with  it.  Oh,  these  Amer- 
icans !  They  are  not  glad  to  suffer  for  beauty,  they 
are  not  willing  to  pay." 

"  Some  day,  Anna,  all  their  money  will  be  taken 
from  them  and  they  will  have  no  more  chance  than 
you  or  I.  The  world  has  treated  me  little  better 
than  it  has  you.  Both  my  father  and  my  mother 
were  wage  slaves  who  wore  their  lives  away  in  a  New 
England  shoe  factory.  Between  the  two  of  them 
they  made  hardly  enough  money  to  exist  and  they 
even  begrudged  my  mother  the  time  away  from  her 
work  that  it  took  to  bring  me  into  the  world.  Both 
of  them  died  years  before  they  should  from  confining 


WOOING  BY  THEORY  221 

work  and  over-hours.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  am  an 
enemy  of  society  as  I  find  it?  " 

"  Oh,  Monsieur ! "  cried  the  emotional  Anna, 
"  again  I  am  so  sorry  for  you." 

He  rose  and  stood  opposite  her.  "  Your  sympathy 
is  wonderful,"  he  said.  "  You  are  not  tutored  in  the 
deceits  and  sophistries  of  the  polite  world.  You  are 
real.  And  you  are  also  sound,  mentally  and  physi- 
cally. Why,  it's  from  such  as  you  that  a  new  civili- 
sation must  have  its  beginnings.  We  must  lop  off  at 
the  top  and  bottom,  slash  away  the  unfit  from  both 
ends  of  a  deteriorating  humanity." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  returned,  looking  at 
him  admiringly.  "  Monsieur  is  so  clever.  It  is  won- 
derful for  a  man  to  both  think  and  love  in  this  coun- 
try. It  is  more  like  France." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  science  of  eugenics  ?  " 
he  asked  impressively. 

"  Non,  Monsieur."     She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  haven't  time  to  explain  it  to  you  to-day,  but 
sometime  I  shall  tell  it  all  to  you."  He  reflected  a 
moment.  "  Sometime  soon,"  he  added.  "  You  have 
given  me  a  new  interest  in  life.  At  the  bitterest  mo- 
ment of  my  existence  you  step  in,  the  rainbow  across 
my  cloud."  He  came  toward  her  impulsively. 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Monsieur !  "  she  cried  warningly,  "  someone  will 
hear  us.  Metz  is  not  far  away  and  the  maids  may 
be  in  at  any  moment." 

"  I  must  see  you  soon  and  tell  you  all  of  these  won- 
derful things,"  he  continued,  ignoring  her  warning. 
"  Who  knows  what  possibility  may  be  hidden  away 
in  you?  "  He  grasped  her  wrist,  but  she  wriggled 
away  and  darted  to  the  stairs.  Thomas  heard  the 
voices  of  Dallas  and  Mrs.  Howard.  He  scowled,  then 
smiled,  and  found  his  own  way  out.  Once  more  a 
woman  had  come  into  his  "  shattered  life." 

And  so  Thomas  came  often  to  Mrs.  Brinton's  and 
Anna  was  just  as  often  sent  to  dismiss  him.  If  it  oc- 
casionally took  her  long,  the  delay  was  laid  to  the 
Socialist's  well-known  obduracy.  None  of  the  others 
dreamed  of  the  nature  and  direction  of  his  new  affair,, 

Through  Anna,  Thomas  kept  himself  fully  posted 
as  to  the  progress  of  the  Dallas-Howard  courtship. 
He  snarled  the  day  the  engagement  was  announced 
and  spent  many  a  half -hour  trying  to  make  Anna 
see  what  a  monster  any  man  was  who  had  as  much 
money  as  Dallas. 

"  But  Monsieur  Dallas  is  charming  and  handsome 
and  so  thoughtful  of  Madame,"  Anna  objected.  For 
herself  she  regarded  a  bank  account  as  one  of  the 
great  essentials  of  life.  She  quite  approved  of  Dallas, 


WOOING  BY  THEORY  223 

but  thought  he  was  "  throwing  himself  away  on 
Madame." 

"  Think,"  she  said  to  Thomas,  "  if  he  had  seen  her 
before  she  was  made  over !  " 

"  Made  over?  "  asked  Thomas.  "  What  do  you 
mean? " 

"  Why,  Madame  look  twenty  years  older  when 
first  I  see  her.  She  is  now  the  triumph  of  myself 
and  the  modiste,  the  hair-dresser  and  the  corset- 
maker,  the  shoeman  and  the  milliner." 

"  How  barbaric,"  commented  the  Socialist.  "  You 
see  in  a  capitalistic  society  the  women  are  no  more 
civilised  than  they  were  two  thousand  years  ago." 

"  Monsieur  Thomas,  you  are  absurd  when  you  talk 
so.  What  does  it  matter  how  the  lady  gets  beauty 
so  long  as  she  has  it  ?  Beauty  is  all.  Without  beauty 
the  woman  is  nothing." 

"  Anna,  how  can  you  talk  so,  especially  after  all  I 
have  told  you.  Come  with  me  to-morrow,  which  I 
believe  is  your  day  off,  to  my  pet  coffee  house  and 
we'll  have  a  long  talk  for  the  good  of  your  mind." 

Anna  was  getting  rather  tired  of  having  her  mind 
improved,  but  she  agreed  to  go.  She  admired  the 
Socialist's  love-making,  not  his  thinking.  That  bored 
her.  It  made  her  head  ache  to  try  to  follow  Thomas 
through  the  mental  mazes  of  one  of  his  long  exhorta- 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

tions.  She  was  yearning  to  have  scenes  made  over 
her,  to  have  him  forget  his  theories  and  all  things  ex- 
cept the  fact  that  he  was  a  man  and  that  she  was  an 
attractive  woman. 

But  at  the  appointed  hour  she  met  him  at  a  safe 
distance  from  Mrs.  Brinton's  and  he  carried  her  off 
triumphantly  (by  trolley,  of  course)  to  the  smoky, 
stuffy,  coffee  house  which  had  been  the  scene  of  a 
previous  visit  with  Mrs.  Howard.  Anna,  however, 
fitted  into  the  atmosphere  much  more  appropriately 
than  her  mistress  had.  She  liked  the  continental 
quality  of  the  place,  the  interesting  and  ardent  men 
she  saw  there  and  the  Bohemianism  of  the  service. 

If  not  like  Paris  it  was  at  least  like  many  places 
she  knew  well  in  Berlin  or  Vienna  and  once  there  she 
felt  miles  away  from  New  York  and  the  thoroughly 
exacting  duties  of  keeping  Mrs.  Howard  up  to  the 
mark  in  dress  and  diet.  And  since  her  engagement 
the  widow  had  shown  an  inclination  to  get  back  to  sim- 
pler and  more  comfortable  things,  a  tendency  which 
Anna  combatted  fiercely.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  get 
away  from  that  now  continual  conflict  of  the  boudoir. 

In  the  beginning  the  relations  of  Thomas  and  the 
maid  were  those  of  teacher  and  pupil.  He  not  only 
had  for  her  the  interest  of  a  man  in  a  woman,  but 
also  that  of  a  political  zealot  looking  for  a  convert. 


WOOING  BY  THEORY 

Thomas  was  a  sympathiser  in  the  feminist  move- 
ment and  believed  quite  sincerely  that  the  hope  of 
society  lay  in  an  upheaval  which  should  place  woman 
.  in  a  place  of  greater  economic  and  marital  freedom. 

Anna's  mind,  however,  had  never  even  been  ploughed 
by  ideas,  and  seeds  of  political  thought,  therefore,  fell 
on  rather  unsympathetic  soil.  She  was  neither  rebel 
nor  reactionary.  She  had,  however,  a  conventional 
morality  which  was  proof  against  all  of  the  Socialist's 
advanced  ideas  as  to  the  untrammelled  relationships  of 
the  sexes. 

She  always  admitted  that  his  tirades  must  be  just, 
for  did  they  not  come  from  him  and  was  he  not  an 
extremely  clever  man,  but  she  always  parried  his  ad- 
vances with  a  defence  which  was  the  more  difficult  to 
overcome  because  of  its  very  instinctiveness.  She  did 
not  reason  against  indiscretion.  She  simply  did  not 
consider  it.  Nevertheless  he  continued  stubbornly  to 
convert  her  to  the  doctrines  of  the  "  varietist,"  to 
.win  her  away  from  her  conventionalism,  to  inoculate 
her  in  some  degree  with  the  spirit  of  revolt  which 
burned  so  within  himself. 

"  Oh,  -my  head  is  so  weary ! "  she  exclaimed  as 
Thomas  began  to  explain  some  great  victory  which 
had  just  been  won  by  radicalism.  "  Why  must  you 
always  talk  so  far  away  from  ourselves  ?  "  she  added. 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  I  was  about  to  get  to  that,"  he  apologised.  "  But 
I  think  it  wise  always  to  see  that  you  are  well  in- 
formed. The  women  who  are  to  be  the  mothers  of  the 
new  race  should  not  only  have  good  bodies,  but  good 
minds  as  well.  Now,  you  would  make  a  splendid 
parent  if  you  would  only  think  more." 

"  Monsieur  Thomas !  "  she  cried,  pretending  to  be 
much  shocked. 

"  But  perhaps  it  would  come  out  all  right,"  he 
added  musingly.  "  I  have  mind  enough  for  both  of 
us.  By  Jove,  it's  a  great  idea." 

"What   is?"   she   asked. 

"  Why,  that  you  and  I  should  form  a  union  based 
on  sound  eugenical  principles." 

"  You  mean  that  you  want  to  marry  me?  " 

"  Now,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  it? "  he 
snorted  vehemently.  "  Are  you  going  to  be  foolish 
and  reactionary  like  these  stupid  Dallases  and  How- 
ards? I  thought  better  of  you  than  that." 

"  I  may  be  foolish,  but  I  am  no  fool,"  she  returned 
spiritedly.  "  If  you  want  to  marry,  very  well.  We 
will  have  a  priest  or  nothing." 

"  And  I  thought  you  were  a  lundred  soul,"  he 
returned  sadly,  "  that  your  mind  would  go  with  my 
mind  and  that  we  were  to  glory  in  the  strength  of 


WOOING  BY  THEORY 

our  own  individualities.  But  you  are  just  another 
little  puppet  out  of  the  conventional  mould." 

"  I  will  leave  you  here,  if  you  talk  to  me  so.  You 
haven't  said  once  that  you  love  me,  and  that  is  to  me 
the  important  matter.  I  adore  you  when  you  make 
love,  but  I  hate  you  when  you  talk." 

"Anna!" 

She  blinked  tearfully  and  he  melted. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  girl,"  he  began  apologetically, 
"  but  you  know  I  am  carried  away  always  by  my 
thoughts.  You  know  I  am  mad  to  have  you.  Other- 
wise I  never  should  have  proposed  this  wonderful 
scheme  for  the  improvement  of  the  world.  It  would 
be  too  bad  to  spoil  it  all  by  a  foolish  little  quibble  over 
a  few  mumbled  words.  Bring  on  your  priest  if  you 
want.  He  will  comfort  you,  and  as  for  me,  I  will 
coolly  ignore  the  fact  that  he  is  there.  So  both  of 
us  will  be  satisfied."  He  reached  across  the  table  in 
the  dim  light  quite  sure  that  no  one  in  that  gathering 
of  absorbed  souls  had  any  time  to  be  watching  others. 
He  took  her  hand  and  thrilled  at  the  velvety  touch 
of  it.  He  forgot  theories  and  was  fired  to  even 
greater  desire  for  her. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE    DAY    OF    DAYS 

TRUE  to  her  promise  to  her  impatient  lover,  Mrs. 
Howard  was  ready  for  the  wedding  two  weeks  after 
their  visit  to  the  riverside  inn.  Dallas  realised  what 
inroads  all  of  these  preparations  were  making  on  her 
time,  for  he  was  allotted  so  little  of  it  that  he  com- 
plained bitterly  and  continually  that  he  never  saw 
her  at  all  any  more. 

The  widow  submitted  herself  absolutely  to  modiste, 
bootmaker,  coiffeur,  masseur,  jeweller  and  merchant. 
She  swept  along  in  a  fury  of  preparation ;  finding  in 
the  activities  of  the  fleeting  days  relief  from  intro- 
spection. She  was  doing  her  best  to  prevent  herself 
from  thinking  things  out  to  inevitable  conclusions. 
She  knew  only  that  she  had  given  her  word  to  Dallas 
and  that  she  was  going  to  live  up  to  the  woman  she 
had  superimposed  on  the  Mrs.  Howard  that  Brookline 
knew. 

Even  Mrs.  Brinton,  who  was  a  very  dynamo  of 
energy,  was  surprised  by  her  friend's  feverish  whirl  of 

buying  and  fitting.     The  hostess,  of  course,  was  con- 

228 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS 

suited  continually  as  to  the  plans  for  the  wedding 
and  her  advice  was  always  wanted  in  the  matter  of 
clothing,  for  if  Mrs.  Howard  had  trusted  her  own 
instinctive  tastes  she  would  not  always  have  pur- 
chased the  smart  and  torturing  gowns  and  garments 
which  were  literally  thrust  upon  her.  But  she  was 
so  busy  that  she  hardly  felt  the  punishment  contin- 
ually inflicted  on  her  by  her  clothes.  For  the  time 
she  bore  her  fashionable  martyrdom  uncomplainingly. 

Mrs.  Brinton,  too,  was  worried  about  the  wedding. 
She  feared  that  the  excitement  of  the  ceremony  and 
the  inevitable  reaction  after  it  would  bring  her  friend 
to  a  collapse  which  her  present  burning  energy  prom- 
ised. Mrs.  Howard  had  never  been  hardened  to  the 
strenuous  daily  existence  of  the  urban  woman.  All 
of  the  entertainment  and  frivolity  of  the  early  weeks 
had  told  on  her  strength,  her  struggle  with  her  clothes 
also  had  worn  her  and  the  complication  into  which 
her  fervent  admirers  pitched  her  had  made  further 
levy  on  her  stamina.  In  short,  she  was  in  no  condi- 
tion to  go  through  another  ordeal.  Mrs.  Brinton 
thought  that  the  wedding  would  prove  one. 

But  the  widow  did  not  want  to  lose  an  item  in  the 
list  of  affairs  which  naturally  were  arranged  in  ad- 
vance of  the  wedding.  So  after  hard,  difficult  days 
in  the  shops  and  parlours  devoted  to  the  adornment 


230 

and  beautification  of  women  she  spent  nights  in  varied 
entertainment.  There  were  affairs  which  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton  gave,  Doyle  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  alter- 
nately dine  and  sup  his  friend  and  the  woman  who 
might  have  been  his,  John  Strong  struggled  for  open 
dates,  and  Dallas  literally  had  hundreds  of  friends  all 
anxious  to  entertain  him  and  the  fiancee  in  some  way. 
So  it  was  not  surprising  the  widow  grew  thinner  and 
more  tired-looking  each  day.  She  struggled  desper- 
ately to  keep  up  her  appearance  and  scourged  on  mas- 
seur and  specialist  to  work  their  hardest  on  her. 

She  postponed  going  to  Brookline  for  the  mid- 
June  wedding  until  the  last  moment.  She  had  decided 
to  limit  the  attendance  at  the  ceremony  to  just  the 
intimates  of  the  Brinton  household  and  a  very  few 
of  the  Boston  relatives  who  could  not  possibly  be 
left  out.  Somehow  she  did  not  relish  the  idea  of 
confronting  her  Brookline  friends  in  all  her  recreated 
beauty  and  her  youthful  clothes.  For  that  sort  of 
thing  one  needed  the  glare  and  artificiality  of  the 
metropolis. 

But  the  inevitable  time  crept  closer  and  closer. 
John  Strong  had  gone  on  ahead,  taking  Metz  and 
some  of  Mrs.  Brinton's  servants  with  him  to  assist 
the  old-fashioned  Howard  retinue  in  the  house  ar- 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS  231 

rangements  for  the  wedding.  To  Farrell  had  been 
intrusted  what  other  few  charges  there  were. 

Mrs.  Howard  and  Mrs.  Brinton  and  their  maids 
were  to  have  gone  to  Brookline  the  day  before  the 
ceremony,  but  the  widow  balked  at  the  last  moment. 

"  Oh,  Peg,  I  can't  do  it !  "  she  wailed. 

"Can't  do  what,  Ellie? "  Mrs.  Brinton  asked. 
"  And  for  heaven's  sake,  do  hold  yourself  together." 

"  1  can't  spend  the  night  at  Brookline  in  that 
house.  This  Ellie  Howard  never  lived  here." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  you  are  tired  and  nervous." 

"  I  tell  you  I  won't,  I  can't.  I  should  have  the 
creeps." 

"  I  thought  you  loved  your  old  place.  You've  done 
nothing  but  talk  about  it  for  two  weeks." 

"  That's  the  trouble !  "  Mrs.  Howard  sank  into  a 
chair.  Mrs.  Brinton  was  much  perturbed. 

'*  Ellie,  Ellie,  this  will  never  do.     You've  got  to  go." 

"  But  not  until  to-night,"  Mrs.  Howard  begged  pit- 
eously.  "  Can't  we  take  the  night  train  and  get 
there  in  the  morning?  " 

"  But  you  are  to  be  married  at  noon ! " 

"  What  of  that  ?  Is  it  going  to  make  any  differ- 
ence in  the  ceremony  where  I  sleep,  or  rather  where 
I  don't  sleep,  for  I  know  I'm  not  going  to  have  a 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

wink  to-night.  That's  why  I  can't  bear  to  be  alone  in 
that  big  house.  Don't  you  understand,  Peg?  " 

Mrs.  Brinton,  seeing  that  her  friend  was  desperate, 
agreed.  Their  trunks  had  already  gone,  but  Anna 
and  Mrs.  Brinton's  maid  had  held  enough  hand  bag- 
gage to  make  the  Pullman  journey  possible.  Anna 
rushed  out  to  change  the  tickets  and  the  widow  re- 
tired to  spend  the  afternoon  in  a  nervous  chill.  Mrs. 
Brinton  exhausted  every  resource  in  her  command 
to  cheer  the  other,  but  it  was  a  hopeless  task. 

In  the  evening  they  motored  down  to  the  station. 
Mrs.  Howard  stared  at  every  familiar  light  with  a 
sort  of  "  I-shall-never-look-on-you-again  "  expression. 

"  Don't  be  so  silly,"  finally  Mrs.  Brinton  could 
stand  it  no  longer.  "  Everyone  feels  this  way  when 
they  are  about  to  be  married.  Perhaps  that's  the 
reason  I've  never  said  '  yes '  to  John,"  she  added. 

"  You're  a  great  comfort,"  Mrs.  Howard  inter- 
rupted fiercely.  "  Say  something  else  soothing  like 
that  and  I'll  never  leave." 

"  It's  a  good  thing  you  are  with  me,  Peg,"  said 
Mrs.  Howard  as  they  finally  went  down  to  the  train 
gate.  "  I  should  never  have  the  courage  to  go 
through  here  alone." 

"  Now,  Ellie,  do  be  calm,"  urged  Mrs.  Brinton. 
"  Don't  make  a  scene  in  the  station." 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS  233 

"Why,  Peg!  I  believe  you  are  just  as  upset  as 
I  am." 

"  Well,  who  wouldn't  be  ?  "  Mrs.  Brinton  returned 
somewhat  querulously,  "  I've  done  nothing  for  the 
past  two  weeks  but  repress  my  nerves  to  save  yours. 
It's  about  time  for  me  to  have  an  outbreak." 

Both  women,  however,  became  calmer  as  they  set- 
tled down  in  their  adjoining  drawing-rooms.  Mrs. 
Howard  rushed  in  to  her  friend,  however,  as  the 
wheels  began  to  roll  and  the  lights  of  the  long  plat- 
form to  glide  by.  She  gazed  into  Mrs.  Brinton's  face 
and  then  held  onto  her. 

"  There,  there,"  the  other  said  soothingly,  "  you 
are  all  right.  Now  do  quiet  down." 

Mrs.  Howard  yielded  herself  for  a  few  moments 
to  the  helpful  ministrations  of  Anna,  who  mercifully 
permitted  her  mistress  to  be  comfortable  in  the  pri- 
vacy of  the  compartment.  Perhaps  it  was  not  with- 
out design,  for  the  maid  remarked,  "  Mrs.  Howard, 
after  you  are  all  quiet  and  comfortable  may  I  talk  to 
you  a  moment  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Anna,"  she  answered,  "  only  I  must 
write  out  a  message  to  Farrell,  telling  him  when  we 
are  coming  and  you  will  have  to  take  it  out  to 
the  porter  and  have  him  drop  it  off  at  some  conven- 
ient station." 


234          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

The  maid  brought  her  a  blank  and  she  wrote  out 
the  brief  wire.  When  Anna  returned  she  hesitated 
for  a  moment. 

"  Now  what  is  it,  Anna?  "  Mrs.  Brinton  said. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  bother  Madame  now,"  the  maid  be- 
gan, "  but  as  she  sails  so  soon  after  the  wedding  I 
must  say  it  when  I  can.  Madame,  I  cannot  go 
abroad." 

"  Anna,"  Mrs.  Howard  was  much  taken  back. 
"  What  a  time  to  tell  me  anything  like  that !  I  won't 
hear  of  your  leaving." 

"  But  I  must  leave."  There  was  absolute  urgency 
in  the  maid's  tone. 

"  I  tell  you  you  can't  go !  That's  flat.  I  wouldn't 
let  you  off  unless  you  were  to  be  married  or  buried. 
There!" 

"  That's  just  it.     I  am  to  be  married!  " 

"  Anna ! "  Mrs.  Howard  stared  at  the  maid. 
"  Why  this  isn't  possible.  You  haven't  seen  a  soul 
here." 

"  But  it  is  true."  Anna  didn't  know  what  more  to 
say. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  her  mistress.  "Some  for- 
eigner here  in  Boston?  " 

"  No,  I  marry  a  New  York  man." 

"  Someone  you  met  there  since  we  left  Boston  ?  " 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS  £35 

"  Yes." 

"  Anna,  you  are  the  most  secretive  person  I've  ever 
known.  Tell  me  who  it  is?  Do  I  know  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Not  Metz,  Anna?" 

"  Non,  non,  non.  I  could  not  marry  the  good 
Metz.  He  is  too  old,  too  stiff,  too  unromantic.  I 
want  the  young,  ardent  man,  the  fiery  lover." 

"  Then  it's  the  chauffeur.  He's  a  rakish  looking 
young  devil." 

Anna  shook  her  head.  She  hesitated,  then,  feel- 
ing that  the  truth  would  have  to  come  out  sooner  or 
later,  she  made  her  confession. 

"  It  is  the  Socialist  gentleman,  Amos  Thomas." 
Anna  hung  her  head  to  hide  her  confusion. 

"  What,  Anna  ?     Say  it  again !  " 

"  I  marry  Amos  Thomas." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  overcome.  She  laughed  until 
the  tears  came  and  then  Mrs.  Brinton  came  rushing 
in  from  the  other  compartment,  fearing  that  her 
friend  had  fallen  into  hysterics. 

"  Madame,  Madame,  you  are  not  to  tell ! "  Anna 
cautioned. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter,  Ellie?"  asked 
Mrs.  Brinton. 

"  Oh,  Anna  has  nearly  killed  me.     She  has  just 


236          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

told  me  something  extraordinary  which  has  amused 
me  almost  to  death.  But  I'm  furiously  angry,  too, 
because  she  is  going  to  leave  me." 

"  But,  Ellie,  you  wouldn't  want  her  with  you  on 
a  honeymoon,  anyway." 

"  Think,  Peg,  dear,  how  long  this  honeymoon 
journey  is  to  last.  Dal  says  we'll  be  gone  a  year 
and  a  half.  I'll  need  Anna  in  two  weeks." 

"  You  can  get  another  maid  when  you  land." 

"  But  it  will  be  awkward.  Oh,  dear,  nothing 
seems  to  go  right.  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  let  you  off, 
Anna." 

"  Merci,  Madame,  you  are  so  kind." 

"  Well,  Ellie,  I'm  dying  for  sleep,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Brinton.  "  I'll  drop  off  where  I  stand  if  I 
don't  get  to  bed.  Try  to  sleep,  dear,  and  don't 
worry."  The  two  women  embraced.  Mrs.  Howard 
wept  silently  a  minute  on  her  friend's  shoulder. 

"  I'm  just  nervous,  that's  all,  Peg.  Forgive  me 
for  acting  like  a  fool."  Mrs.  Brinton  went  back, 
closing  her  door,  and  Mrs.  Howard  turned  again 
to  Anna.  "  What  are  you  and  Thomas  going 
to  live  on  ? "  she  asked.  "  You  know  he  has  no 
money." 

"  I  have  my  savings  account." 

"  Don't  ever  let  him  get  hold  of  it." 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS  237 

"  Indeed  I  won't,  Madame,  I  know  enough  not  to 
do  that." 

"  And  here  is  a  present  for  you."  Mrs.  Howard 
took  her  cheque-book  out  of  her  bag  and  wrote  out 
an  order  for  five  hundred  dollars.  "  Put  that  in 
your  savings  account  and  don't  let  Thomas  ever 
touch  it." 

The  widow  tossed  fitfully  through  the  night,  but 
she  did  get  snatches  of  sleep  now  and  then  mingled 
with  strange  dreams  in  which  Farrell,  Dallas,  Doyle, 
Mrs.  Brinton,  Thomas  and  Anna  were  weirdly  inter- 
mixed. The  train  reached  Boston  early  and  they 
were  in  Brookline  soon  after  8  o'clock.  Farrell, 
much  dressed  up,  and  John  Strong  were  at  the  sta- 
tion to  greet  them.  She  saw  no  one  else  she  knew, 
for  which  she  was  grateful,  and  they  were  soon  bowl- 
ing along  in  the  car  through  verdant  and  picturesque 
Brookline. 

Farrell  was  chirping  and  pleasant.  He  seemed 
to  be  half  reconciled  to  the  marriage  and  this  morn- 
ing spared  his  mother  the  usual  protests.  Strong, 
having  been  separated  from  his  Margaret  Brinton 
for  a  whole  day,  was  extravagantly  glad  to  see  her 
again.  Mrs.  Howard  was  quite  silent.  The  weeks 
since  that  March  day  when  she  had  stood  at  her 
garden  window  and  planned  to  really  "  taste  "  life 


238          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

seemed  years.  Never  before  had  existence  been  so 
crowded  and  never  before  in  her  life  had  problems  so 
forced  her  into  quick  decisions. 

Brookline  looked  unutterably  serene  and  peaceful 
after  all  the  turmoil  of  New  York. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  we  could  only  stay 
here  for  a  few  quiet  weeks ! " 

There  was  a  tearful  scene  after  the  car  had  wound 
down  the  long  elm  sheltered  drive  to  the  carriage 
door.  Mrs.  Hopkins,  who  had  been  cooking  for  the 
Howards  since  the  gas-lit  days,  the  two  maids, 
Hannah  and  Abigail,  and  Simpson,  the  gardener, 
were  gathered  in  the  background  and  all  wept  as 
Farrell  and  Strong  helped  the  returning  widow  from 
the  car.  Even  the  Howard  maids  were  middle-aged, 
having  grown  up  in  the  service  there,  so  they  were 
entitled  to  their  display  of  emotion. 

There  were  many  expressions  of  surprise  in  good 
New  England  tones  as  to  how  young  and  well  Mrs. 
Howard  was  looking.  Much  curiosity,  also,  was 
voiced  as  to  Dallas,  who  had  not  yet  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

Mrs.  Howard  quickly  retired  to  her  rooms  after 
seeing  that  Mrs.  Brinton  had  been  made  comfortable. 
!&nd  then  she  turned  herself  to  Anna  for  the  final 
lime.  The  maid  was  much  affected,  and  interspersed 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS  239 

the  dressing  of  the  bride  with  frequent  sniffles  and 
sobs. 

"  Now  see  here,  Anna,"  finally  expostulated  the 
mistress.  "  How  do  you  expect  me  to  keep  up  with 
you  going  on  so?  " 

"  I'll  try  to  control  myself,  Madame,"  Anna  re- 
turned, "  but  I  weep  for  myself,  too." 

"  That's  so,  I'd  forgotten  in  my  self-absorption 
that  you  were  getting  into  the  same  boat." 

Never  had  the  Howard  place,  as  the  Brookline 
cab  drivers  insisted  on  calling  it,  looked  better  than 
it  did  on  that  mid-June  day.  A  fresh  breeze  had 
literally  brought  down  the  flawless  skies  of  highland 
New  Hampshire,  the  elms  stood  in  green  grandeur 
under  the  blue  of  the  heavens  and  the  white  New 
England  house  with  its  ample  verandahs  and  its 
multitude  of  green  blinds  seemed  a  refuge  from  all 
the  world.  Behind  the  house  the  old-fashioned  gar- 
den was  a  riot  of  bloom.  The  catalpas  were  thrust- 
ing out  their  bright  cup-shaped  blossoms  and  beneath 
the  beds  revealed  all  manner  of  blues,  reds,  yellows 
and  fainter  pastel  shades. 

The  garden  had  been  half  a  century  in  the  making 
and  Simpson  had  grown  from  a  lad  to  a  stooping 
veteran  over  it.  He  had  taken  its  traditions  from 
the  older  gardener  brought  out  from  Roxbury  by 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Farrell's  father  and  no  upstart  flower,  no  new- 
fangled blossom,  no  freak  plant  ever  found  its  way 
there.  In  their  season  came  forth  lilacs,  forsythia, 
primroses,  varied  flags,  holly-hocks,  corn-flowers, 
four-o'clocks,  marigolds,  pansies,  stock,  bachelor's 
buttons,  and  just  now  the  sunken  rose  garden  was 
showing  forth  its  mosaic  of  red,  magenta,  scarlet, 
pink,  white  and  yellow. 

Mrs.  Howard  had  written  on  that  she  wanted  the 
house  left  as  simple  as  possible.  Therefore  the 
decorations  for  the  wedding  were  not  pretentious, 
consisting  mostly  of  great  vases  of  gloriously  fresh 
flowers  from  the  overflowing  garden  just  without. 

Dallas  and  his  man  arrived  soon  after  Mrs. 
Howard  did  and  were  sent  up  immediately  to  their 
suite  as  the  wedding  was  to  be  promptly  at  noon. 

Half  an  hour  before  that  time  Mrs.  Howard, 
radiant  but  trembling,  was  ready.  Somehow  the  old 
house  had  given  her  a  new  strength  and  purpose. 
She  sent  Anna  in  to  Mrs.  Brinton  to  tell  her  friend 
to  come  in  to  see  the  bride  as  soon  as  she  was  dressed. 

When  Mrs.  Brinton  saw  Mrs.  Howard  in  her  wed- 
ding gown,  all  her  fears  took  flight  and  she  took 
renewed  courage.  After  all,  she  felt,  Ellie's  ner- 
vousness was  only  natural  and  was  not  a  matter  of 
age  or  faltering.  Mrs.  Brinton  remembered  vividly 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS 

that  far  off  day  when  she  had  married  Paul  Brinton, 
both  of  them  young  and  thoughtless  and  full  of 
the  carefree  happiness  that  only  youth  knows.  She 
had  a  distinct  recollection  of  the  wave  of  nervous 
agitation  that  swept  over  her  young  soul  that  day. 
Cold  chills  crept  all  over  her  when  she  heard  the  wed- 
ding march.  And  Mrs.  Howard  in  her  bridal  finery 
was  so  lovely  that  Mrs.  Brinton  knew  even  Farrell 
would  feel  a  thrill  of  pride  over  her. 

Celeste  had  outdone  herself  in  creating  Mrs. 
Howard's  wedding  gown.  It  was  of  palest  dove 
grey  charmeuse,  soft  and  clinging.  It  draped  and 
fitted  Mrs.  Howard's  slender  figure  lovingly.  Its 
embroideries  were  exquisite  and  a  bit  or  two  of  rare 
lace  added  to  its  glories.  All  about  it  in  some  elusive 
way  there  floated  or  hung  clouds  of  cobwebby  chiffon 
of  the  same  colour.  Mrs.  Howard's  feet  were  in 
satin  slippers  with  sparkling  rhinestone  buckles  and 
her  slim  ankles  in  grey  lace  stockings.  She  had  an 
indescribable  but  adorable  hat  with  the  better  part 
of  some  rare  bird  drooping  over  its  brim.  Her  beau- 
tiful pearls  were  about  her  neck  and  in  her  ears. 
One  of  Dallas*  many  gifts,  a  priceless  emerald  pen- 
dant, lay  on  her  breast.  Her  lovely  face,  a  trifle 
grave,  was  flushed  and  tinted  to  perfection  by  Anna's 
skilful  hand. 


When  the  bride  finally  appeared  below  her  eyes 
were  downcast.  Her  hair  like  live  gold,  rippled 
softly  about  her  ears  and  her  mouth  never  looked 
more  alluring.  She  radiated  charm  and  beauty. 
The  Boston  relatives  gazed  at  her  in  fearful  admira- 
tion. And  Dallas,  awaiting  her,  felt  sweep  over  him 
a  wave  of  emotion  that  fairly  choked  him.  She 
came  to  meet  him  on  FarrelPs  arm.  She  looked  like 
a  girl,  and  he  felt  old  and  grey  beside  her.  Farrell, 
his  face  white  and  awe  stricken,  gave  his  wonderful 
mother  to  Dallas,  and  stepped  into  the  background. 
Then  as  in  a  dream  Mrs.  Howard  heard  the  quaver- 
ing voice  of  her  old  Pastor,  and  realised  that  the 
moment  had  come.  She  was  being  married  to  Chris- 
topher Dallas! 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

SINGLE    BLESSEDNESS 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Brinton  and 
John  Strong,  finding  the  house  intolerable  with 
gloomy  evidences  of  the  impending  journey  every- 
where, retreated  to  the  garden.  They  found  two 
comfortable  wicker  chairs  under  a  bloom-covered  tree 
near  the  garden  wall  and  seated  themselves  with  every 
evidence  of  deep  depression.  Yet  one  could  not  have 
found  anywhere  a  more  peaceful,  restful  or  reassur- 
ing spot.  Everywhere  were  trees,  shrubs  and 
flowers,  all  growing  in  old-fashioned  profusion.  To 
their  right  the  brick  garden  wall  led  to  a  street  gate 
and  at  their  left  was  the  quaint  rear  entrance  to  the 
house.  Just  off  the  porch  were  several  trunks  and 
on  the  steps  were  hat  boxes,  steamer  rugs  and  bags 
of  various  sizes. 

Strong  watched  wearily  the  men  carrying  the 
trunks  and  bags  to  the  gate  and  sighed  profoundly. 
Mrs.  Brinton,  gowned  in  her  usual  good  taste,  was 
a  most  pleasing  picture  in  a  mauve  dress  with  parasol 

and  hat  that  matched,  but  she,  too,  stared  gloomily 

243 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

ahead.  An  oriole  dropped  a  cheery  call  to  no  avail 
and  a  wren  tried  its  happy  lay,  but  nothing  would 
lift  the  weight  that  pressed  down  on  these  two  good 
friends.  They  were  practically  the  only  guests  left. 
The  town  folk  had  long  ago  gone.  Doyle  was  wan- 
dering through  a  far-off  corner  of  the  grounds  and 
Farrell  was  bustling  about  somewhere  within  the 
house,  which  also  held,  indefinitely,  the  bride  and 
groom. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Well, 
thank  God,  the  wedding's  over ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Who  was  it  told  that  lie  about  something  being  as 
merry  as  a  marriage  bell?  I'm  sure  I've  been  on  the 
verge  of  tears  all  day.  I  have  rarely  felt  so  over- 
come." She  seemed  about  to  give  in  at  once  but 
Strong  leaned  over  and  patted  her  reassuringly. 

"  I  couldn't  feel  worse  if  I  had  been  to  a  hang- 
ing," he  returned.  "  Being  best  man  at  this  wed- 
ding was  very  much  like  being  pall-bearer,  which 
post  I  have  filled  much  more  frequently." 

She  wiped  her  eyes  and  slowly  shook  her  head. 
"  I  never  go  to  weddings  or  funerals,"  she  com- 
mented. "  One  is  of  so  little  importance  at  either." 

Strong  tried  to  puzzle  it  out.  He  looked  at  Mrs. 
Brinton,  then  studied  the  leaves  above  him  and  finally 
said,  "  For  the  life  of  me,  I  don't  see  what  was  the 


SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS  245 

matter  with  this  particular  wedding.  Even  Michael's 
champagne  cup  wouldn't  lift  it." 

Just  as  she  was  about  to  answer,  two  girlish  heads 
appeared  above  the  garden,  there  were  giggles  and 
then  the  rice  came  rattling  down.  Strong  bobbed 
up  indignantly. 

"  More  of  that  rice ! "  he  exclaimed. 

Mrs.  Brinton  raised  her  handsome  parasol.  "  I 
wonder  if  ElhVs  neighbours  think  I  am  the  bride," 
she  said.  Evidently  they  did  for  rice  again  rattled 
down  on  her  parasol  and  a  moment  later  an  old  shoe 
hurtled  into  the  garden. 

"  Another  slipper,"  commented  Strong.  A  second 
followed.  He  picked  both  up  and  stuffed  them  in 
his  trousers  pocket.  "  Those  Newton  girls  won't 
have  any  left,  soon." 

"  How  stupid  girls  are ! "  was  Mrs.  Brinton's 
comment.  Her  mind  went  back  to  the  wedding. 
"  Poor  Ellie ! "  she  cried.  "  Poor  Dallas,  poor 
things."  She  sniffled.  "  I  assure  you,  John,  matri- 
mony is  not  popular  with  me  this  afternoon.  A 
vigorous  feeling  of  spinsterhood  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  me.  I  wouldn't  be  married  for  the  world." 
She  brought  her  parasol  down  decisively. 

Strong  saw  his  only  hope,  his  own  long-sought 
widow,  evading  him.  He  tried  to  take  her  hand. 


246          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Oh !  I  say,  Margaret,"  he  objected.  He  looked 
at  her  with  tremendous  devotion.  She  refused  to  see 
the  look  and  she  brushed  away  his  hand. 

"  No,  no,  John,  don't.  Single  blessedness  appeals 
to  me  as  it  hasn't  for  months."  She  felt  she  had 
hurt  him.  He  turned  on  her  mournfully.  She  re- 
lented a  little  and  said  comfortingly,  "  To  be  honest 
with  you,  John,  I've  been  leaning  more  and  more  in 
your  direction  for  some  weeks  past." 

His  expression  turned  to  one  of  extreme  delight. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked  to  make  sure. 

She  looked  at  him  with  affection.  "  I  almost  felt 
that  I—" 

He  interrupted  her.  "  And  I've  felt  it,  too,"  he 
said. 

She  suddenly  fell  back  to  her  earlier  mood.  The 
wedding  clearly  had  depressed  her.  "  Well,  that 
feeling  is  over.  Perhaps  this  is  just  reaction.  How 
long  have  you  been  making  love  to  me?  " 

He  sighed  volumes.     "  Only  ten  years !  " 

"  Well,  when  I  recover  from  the  effects  of  this 
wedding  you  will  have  to  begin  all  over  again." 

"  Oh,  Lord !  "  he  cried  completely  crushed. 

Mrs.  Brinton  was  going  through  one  of  those 
periods  of  depression  which  follow  a  long  sustained 
course  of  excitement.  She  was  feeling  the  effects 


SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS  247 

not  only  of  the  strenuous  weeks  which  had  marked 
the  visit  to  New  York  of  Mrs.  Howard,  now  Mrs. 
Dallas,  but  of  months  and  months  and  even  years  of 
fast  driving  on  the  social  track.  Being  a  merry  soul 
she  had  always  had  the  desire  for  company,  much 
company.  And  being  quite  as  rich  as  she  was  merry 
she  had  not  failed  to  gratify  the  pleasure  which  peo- 
ple gave  her.  But  she  always  gave  out  quite  as 
much  as  she  took.  Naturally,  since  there  were  so 
many  people  to  give  to,  she  exhausted  great  quanti- 
ties of  vital  energy.  It  is  not  surprising  then  that 
the  inevitable  let-down  following  the  wedding  has 
found  her  particularly  unable  to  bear  up  against  it. 
Consequently  her  treatment  of  her  faithful  cavalier, 
John  Strong.  But  he  had  weathered  similar  storms 
with  her. 

She  stared  about  nervously.  Her  brows  twitched 
a  little  and  he  noted  a  drawn  expression.  "  What's 
happened  to  us  all  to-day  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Why  does 
everyone  feel  so  horribly  gloomy  ?  " 

Strong  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  doctrine  of 
comfortableness.  He  never  crossed  Mrs.  Brinton. 
He  made  a  point  of  agreeing  with  her,  especially 
when  she  was  nervous.  "  The  Lord  only  knows," 
he  answered.  "  I'm  sure  I  don't !  There's  something 
in  the  air  —  it's  probably  Brookline.  I  can't  abide 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

the  suburbs.  And  an  old  garden  fills  me  with  a  pent- 
up  sort  of  sentiment  that's  very  uncomfortable." 
He  looked  down  on  her  fondly.  He  would  have 
given  much  to  have  been  one  of  the  day's  bride- 
grooms. But  he  knew  Mrs.  Brinton  was  in  no  mood 
for  sentimental  conversation. 

She  looked  to  him  for  some  sort  of  diversion  or 
consolation,  nevertheless.  "  Do  cheer  me  up,  John," 
she  urged.  "  Tell  me  a  funny  story,  you  know, 
nearly  naughty.  I'm  sure  you  must  know  dozens. 
I  shan't  mind  if  it's  very  naughty  if  only  it's  very 
funny.  That's  a  good  soul." 

He  held  his  cigarette  case  out  to  gain  time. 
"  Have  a  cigarette,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll  try  to  remem- 
ber a  story.  Stories  never  will  come  when  you  really 
need  them.  Aren't  you  going  to  smoke?  "  He  was 
surprised  to  find  her  ignoring  the  proffered  case. 

Thinking  she  had  not  heard  him  he  repeated  the 
remark.  She  shook  her  head.  "  Since  we  are  call- 
ing things  by  their  real  names,"  she  explained,  "  I'll 
confess  to  you  that  I  particularly  dislike  cigarettes. 
They  always  disagree  with  me,  I  can't  bear  the  taste 
or  smell  of  them,  and  I  only  smoke  them  to  be  smart. 
I  couldn't  endure  one  to-day." 

"  Margaret,  I  thought  you  loved  them."  Strong 
was  surprised. 


SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS  249 

She  stirred  uneasily.  She  was  in  one  of  those 
exaggerated  nervous  conditions  when  a  woman  is  un- 
kind to  those  whom  she  loves  the  best.  He  was  quite 
unprepared,  well  as  he  knew  her,  for  her  next  remark. 
"  Well,  I  don't,"  she  snapped,  referring  to  the  smok- 
ing. "  You  don't  know  a  great  deal  about  me,  and 
now  you  never  will.  Oh,  I  am  so  grateful  that  I 
am  still  single,  that  no  words  will  express  it !  " 

Strong  looked  very  unhappy.  He  felt  it  was  quite 
hopeless  to  say  anything  further.  He  got  up  and 
stood  dejectedly  wondering  what  he  should  do  when 
from  across  the  garden  wall  came  the  sounds  of  the 
wedding  march  played  on  a  piano. 

"  There  they  are  again,  the  little  cats."  Strong 
almost  swore.  He  was  quite  sure  that  the  young 
women  of  the  rice  and  the  old  shoes  were  plaguing 
them  again.  "  It's  all  for  Ellie's  benefit,  but  we 
are  the  ones  who  suffer." 

Mrs.  Brinton  began  to  weep.  "  Oh,  dear,"  she 
cried,  "  Oh,  John !  "  Strong  was  getting  a  bit  bored. 

"  My  word,  Margaret,"  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is 
fearful!  You  aren't  the  bride,  you  know!  Do  be 
sensible !  You  are  looking  beautiful  and  we  are  all 
going  back  to  New  York  and  we  will  have  a  j  oily  time. 
Cheer  up !  " 

Voices,   full  of  gay  mischief,  joined  the   music. 


250  YEARS  OF  DISCRETION 

Mrs.  Brinton,  no  longer  able,  to  stand  it,  rose  up, 
putting  her  fingers  in  her  ears.  "  Oh !  I  wish 
they'd  stop.  I  shall  scream  in  a  moment !  How  can 
they  think  it  is  funny  ? "  The  last  was  delivered 
over  the  wall  so  violently  that  it  had  its  effect.  The 
playing  and  singing  ceased. 

"  Thank  heaven,"  said  the  tortured  wedding 
guest,  sinking  back  into  her  chair.  She  wiped  her 
eyes,  sniffed  a  bit  and  then  looked  at  the  trunks 
piled  up  at  the  gate.  "  John,  aren't  you  glad,  hon- 
estly glad,  we  are  still  unshackled,  and  that  that 
fearful  array  of  trunks  doesn't  belong  to  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  say  that,"  he  answered  truthfully. 
"  I  want  to  marry  you  more  than  I  want  to  do  any- 
thing." 

"  Put  it  out  of  your  mind,  John,  forever.  A  wed- 
ding and  a  wedding  trip  are  beyond  me.  I  simply 
couldn't  —  I  simply  wouldn't !  Just  picture  lifting 
the  trays  out  of  those  trunks  day  by  day,  and  finding 
the  key  of  each  one  on  your  key  ring,  and  rounding 
up  the  whole  lot  on  those  beastly  little  station  plat- 
forms abroad.  Fancy  going  about  with  an  umbrella 
and  a  porter  and  pointing  them  out  with  a  weary, 
if  accustomed  eye !  And  always  losing  the  one  that 
one  really  wanted." 

"  I  hate  Europe  myself.     And  I  really  am  sorry 


SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS  251 

for  Ellie.     It's  a  bore,  her  maid  leaving  just  now." 

"  It's  more  than  that,"  she  added.  "  Ellie  can 
never  keep  herself  up  alone." 

"  How  —  up  ?  "     He  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"Oh,  nothing— «-just  up.  Dressed  —  fixed  — 
groomed.  You  ought  to  know,  you  have  a  valet." 

The  picture  did  not  look  quite  so  hopeless  to  him. 
He  thought  it  all  over.  It  rather  fascinated  him. 
"  I  should  think  Dal  could  hook  and  unhook  —  or 
even  help  her  keep  up  —  whatever  that  means  I 
How  I  should  love  to  hook  and  unhook — "  He 
caught  himself.  "  Nothing  personal,  you  know,"  he 
added  quickly. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  resumed.  "  Ellie 
has  my  deepest  sympathy,  but,  poor  soul,  that  won't 
help  her.  She  has  got  to  go  around  the  world,  and 
be  handsome  and  young  and  amusing,  whether  she 
feels  like  it  or  not,  every  inch  of  the  way."  She 
rose  tearfully  and  went  over  to  him.  "  Oh,  John, 
I'm  so  glad  we're  not  going  on  a  wedding  trip.  And 
after  to-day,  I  know  I  never,  never  will  find  courage." 
She  gave  him  an  affectionate  touch. 

"  John,  dear,"  she  began  softly,  "  I  don't  want 
ever  to  hurt  you,  but  I  feel  I  must  tell  you  how  all  of 
this  to-day  has  alarmed  me.  It  isn't  because  I  don't 
care  for  you  that  I  hesitate,  but  it  is  because  I  love 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

you  so  much.  I  am  so  afraid  that  if  I  married  I 
should  lose  the  John  I  know  and  admire.  Your 
faithfulness,  your  devotion  and  your  consideration 
are  absolutely  necessary  to  me.  I  must  always  have 
them,  but  would  I  have  them  if  we  were  married? 
Many  of  the  happiest  women  I  know  are  not  mar- 
ried. Wedlock  instead  of  resulting  in  a  division  of 
care  and  responsibility  seems  simply  to  double  them. 
Not  that  these  women  have  any  prejudice  against 
marriage.  They  realise  it  is  a  necessary  and  valu- 
able institution.  They  respect  its  traditions  and 
realise  what  it  means  for  the  human  race  at  large 
but  they  have  found  useful  places  in  the  world  with- 
out it.  John,  dear,  don't  you  think  it  better  for  us 
to  go  on  as  we  are?  I  am  always  happy  with  you. 
Would  I  be  if  a  greater  intimacy  brought  you  to  a 
realisation  that  I  am  far  from  perfect,  that  I  have 
as  many  faults  as  I  have  virtue?  Tell  me,  John,  if 
I'm  mistaken.  I  am  sure  I  am  not." 

He  demurred  gently  and  pulled  her  close  to  him. 

She  yielded  to  him.  "  Kiss  me,  John,"  she  said. 
"  I  love  you  but  I  will  not  marry  you." 

"  You  haven't  said  you  loved  me  for  ages,  that's 
encouraging,"  he  said,  stooping  down  to  grant  her 
sentimental  request.  "  That  is  most  propitious,"  he 
added.  "  I'll  wait  for  the  rest." 


SINGLE  BLESSEDNESS  253 

"Don't,"  she  sighed.  "This  is  final.  I'm  kiss- 
ing you  good-bye."  She  gently  freed  herself. 

"  Was  that  a  good-bye  kiss  ?  "  he  asked  amusedly. 

"  So  far  as  marriage  is  concerned." 

"  It  seemed  like  a  stay  kiss  to  me.  Perhaps  you 
forgot  what  kind  you  started  to  give.  I  don't  feel 
a  bit  as  if  I  had  been  kissed  farewell." 

"  Oh,  John,"  she  exclaimed.  "  How  can  you  jest 
at  a  time  like  this  ?  "  The  tearful  mood  was  on  her 
again. 

But  he  was  much  more  hopeful  than  he  had  been. 
She  had  shown  that  she  really  was  dependent  on  him 
when  most  sorely  tried.  He  was  more  than  a  fair- 
weather  anchor  for  her. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

CONCERNING    A    JOURNEY 

FARRELI,  haft  not  gotten  through  the  day  without 
coming  into  a  share  of  the  general  gloom  which  had 
settled  on  bride  and  groom  and  their  intimate  friends. 
His  was  a  nature  that  indicated  the  appearance  of 
depression  as  quickly  and  surely  as  litmus  paper 
does  the  presence  of  acid.  He  may  have  been  recon- 
ciled in  part  to  the  marriage,  now  that  it  had  actually 
taken  place,  but  he  regarded  the  world-wide  honey- 
moon journey  as  a  piece  of  extravagance  which  no 
sane  man  would  countenance. 

The  absurdity  of  the  thing  had  been  impressed 
particularly  upon  him  for  in  his  capacity  of  general 
home  functionary  at  the  wedding  he  had  completed 
the  final  arrangements  for  the  tickets  at  the  steam- 
ship office  in  Boston.  He  supervised  the  checking 
of  the  baggage  and  sighed  over  each  piece.  Deep 
down  in  his  heart  he  felt  that  he  would  be  saying 
good-bye  to  his  mother  forever,  once  she  started  out 
on  any  such  difficult  and  unending  trip  as  that  which 

Dallas  had  outlined. 

254 


CONCERNING  A  JOURNEY        255 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  quite  mournful  and  alone, 
he  walked  out  into  the  garden  for  a,  final  look  at  the 
trunks.  There  he  found  Strong  and  Mrs.  Brinton, 
the  former  somewhat  abjectly  staring  into  space, 
while  the  latter  was  dabbing  her  eyes  with  one  of 
those  futile  lace  bits  which  women  carry  instead  of 
handkerchiefs.  He  sat  down  near  them. 

"  Tired  out,  Farrell? "  Strong  asked  sympa- 
thetically. "Warm,  isn't  it?" 

Farrell  looked  about  cautiously  and  then  began, 
"  Mrs.  Brinton,  have  either  of  you  ever  thought 
about  this  trip  mother  is  going  to  take  ?  It's  appall- 
ing. I've  seen  the  tickets  for  part  of  the  way. 
Green  wavering  things  like  serpents  and  fully  as 
long.  Yards  of  them !  " 

He  dove  down  into  an  inside  pocket  and  fished  out  a 
little  red  atlas.  "  I  have  figured  out  the  j  ourney 
by  this  little  map  of  the  world,"  he  began,  "  and  I 
want  you  to  listen  to  it,  and  remember  that  mother 
is  supposed  to  do  it  in  one  year.  Boston  to  Hull; 
from  Hull  by  that  fearful  North  Sea  to  Stockholm, 
then  by  boat  across  the  Baltic  to  St.  Petersburg. 
A  little  side  trip  to  Moscow,  Berlin  and  Vienna  and 
in  October  to  Paris.  Then  down  with  the  season  to 
the  South  of  France,  Naples,  Athens  and  old  isles 
of  the  Grecian  seas,  to  Macedonia,  Persia,  Ormus 


256         YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

and  India.  Later  all  the  queer  ratty  spots  on  the  ob- 
scure coasts  of  India  and  Siam.  Then  up  for  Chi- 
nese pirates  and  Japanese  cherry  blossoms  in  the 
spring." 

"Great  Scott!"  interrupted  Strong.  "That's 
work,  that  isn't  honeymooning !  " 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brinton,  jnuch  over- 
come again. 

"  Lord,  it's  awful !  "  added  Strong,  who  regarded 
Boston  as  remote  enough  from  New  York. 

"  When  they  are  not  being  tossed  about  on  a 
boat,"  continued  the  sober  Farrell,  "  they'll  be 
shaken  up  on  a  train,  and  when  they  can't  reach  a 
place  any  other  way,  they  will  be  jolted  around  in  a 
motor  car.  And  God  knows  what  that  globe  trotter 
will  want  to  do  then.  He  mentions  casually,  South 
Africa,  the  Tyrol,  Simla,  Sydney,  the  tombs  of  the 
Pharaohs,  Buenos-Ayres  and  the  Pampas,  Alaska 
and  Alexandria.  He  wants  to  sail  on  the  Bosphorus 
and  climb  the  Himalayas.  He  has  a  passion  for 
folding  his  tent  with  the  Arabs,  and  he  wants  to  kyak 
with  an  Eskimo.  Then  London,  Rome  or  some  other 
place  for  the  winter  —  or  Egypt.  Mother  is  to 
ride  a  camel  and  she  can't  even  sail  on  the  bay. 
She  must  be  carried  in  rickshaws  and  palanquins. 
He  even  talked  about  a  Boer  bullock  cart." 


'*  Oh,  Farrell ! "  Mrs.  Brinton  was  suffering  all 
the  discomforts  of  the  journey  in  advance. 

"  One  would  think  she  had  married  a  motion  pic- 
ture man,"  he  resumed.  "  Do  you  realise  that  up 
to  four  months  ago,  mother  considered  it  tiresome 
to  go  into  Boston,  and  New  York  a  trip  to  be  made 
after  making  one's  will?  Mrs.  Brinton,  I  know  that 
mother's  last  stop  on  this  trip  will  be  a  grave- 
yard 1" 

"  Merciful  God !  Poor  Ellie ! "  she  exclaimed, 
weeping. 

"  My  dear  Farrell,"  Strong  said,  "  they'll  never 
do  it  all ;  they  couldn't.  Don't  worry." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  if  she  had  married 
Michael,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton,  recovering  possession 
of  herself. 

"  Yes,  New  York's  good  enough  for  him,"  com- 
mented Strong. 

"  It  would  be  much  better  if  she  had  married 
nobody,"  was  Farrell's  view.  "  But  she  wouldn't 
listen.  Mr.  Dallas  is  nice  enough,  and  I  feel  quite 
sure  he  loves  mother.  Much  too  ardently,  for  my 
ideas  of  good  taste." 

Strong  showed  dissent  by  a  disgusted  smile.  He 
hated  a  prig. 

"  Mother    is    far    from    young,    Mrs.    Brinton," 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Farrell  continued,  "  and  such  things  seem  out  of 
place.  You  know  mother  is  at  least  — " 

"  Dear  Farrell,  please,"  she  interrupted.  "  Your 
mother's  age  is  not  an  item  of  news  to  me;  I  know 
it  perfectly.  In  fact,  my  own  is  shockingly  similar. 
But  I  flatter  myself,  we  neither  of  us  look  it." 

"  Indeed,  you  don't ! "  emphatically  seconded 
Strong. 

"  That's  what  disturbs  me  so,"  Farrell  said  sadly. 
**  I  want  a  mother,  not  a  creation.  My,  dear, 
comfortable,  pleasant  mother  has  turned  into  a 
dressed-up,  perfumed  fashion  plate.  She  looks 
twenty  years  too  young.  I  tell  you,  it's  out  of 
nature." 

Strong  could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  talk- 
ing to  Farrell  with  fervent  cynicism.  Farrell's  stiff 
and  punctilious  bearing,  his  smug  self-satisfaction 
and  his  absolute  hatred  of  the  joyous  things  of  life 
irritated  the  older  man  inexpressibly.  But  he  strove 
to  remain  calm.  He  even  said  mildly,  "  Once  you 
know  Dallas  you  will  love  him,  Farrell.  Everyone 
does!" 

"  I  don't  know ! "  returned  Farrell  dubiously. 
"  If  he  would  only  settle  down  and  be  a  father  to 
me,  I'd  be  contented  enough." 

Strong  answered  with  dry  humour.     "  Perhaps,  he 


CONCERNING  A  JOURNEY        259 

doesn't  fancy  being  a  father  to  anybody.  It  makes 
one  feel  so  ancient.  I  shouldn't  care,  myself,  about 
being  your  father." 

"  It  would  be  very  nice  to  have  a  father  to  play 
golf  with,"  continued  Farrell,  paying  no  notice  to 
Strong's  joke,  "  and  to  talk  to  of  one's  business 
affairs;  but  Mr.  Dallas  is  just  another  statuette. 
He  isn't  any  more  real  than  mother." 

"  The  brat ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brinton  under  her 
breath  to  Strong. 

Farrell  rose  sadly  and  held  his  hat  before  him. 
"  I'm  going  fishing  with  George  Foote,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  may  not  see  you  again  before  you  go.  Good- 
bye, Mrs.  Brinton,  I  am  glad  you  haven't  a  son,  for 
he  would  be  sure  to  be  wretched  over  your  looking  so 
young  and  pretty  —  at  your  age."  He  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  That's  not  nice  of  you,  Farrell,"  she  returned, 
quite  nettled. 

Strong  was  much  annoyed.  "  My  dear  Farrell, 
if  Mrs.  Brinton  did  have  a  son,  I'm  sure  he  would 
adore  her  as  we  all  do." 

"  Never  mind,  Jack,"  she  said  to  Strong,  and  then 
turned  again  to  Farrell.  "  Good-bye,  dear  child,  you 
never  were  young,  so  you  can't  understand  why 
anyone  else  wants  to  be."  Both  shook  hands 


260          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

with  the  young  man  and  he  started  for  the  garden 
gate. 

"  Please  tell  mother  I'll  be  back  to  bid  her  good- 
bye," he  called  back.  "  And  I  forgot,  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton,"  he  added,  "  to  thank  you  for  bringing  your 
butler  over.  He  is  an  excellent  servant.  Our  par- 
lour maid  left  because  she  said  I  was  too  particular, 
and  perhaps  I  was.  I  have  grown  so  suspicious  of 
all  females."  Hearing  the  girls  across  the  way  at 
their  mock  wedding  march  he  climbed  up  to  the  wall 
and  shouted,  "  I  say,  Lily  —  Lily.  Mother's  dress- 
ing where  she  can't  hear  you.  These  are  simply 
guests  you're  entertaining  in  our  garden.  Do  stop 
it !  "  There  was  a  sound  of  laughter  but  the  music 
ceased.  Even  Farrell's  back  looked  outraged.  He 
turned  and  with  a  curt  "  Good-bye !  "  was  off  through 
the  gate. 

"  Oh,  I  'do  envy  Dal  the  pleasure  of  that  young 
man  as  an  adjunct  of  his  family  circle,"  commented 
Strong.  "  What  a  pleasant  young  person  to  con- 
front several  hundred  meals  a  year.  No  wonder  his 
mother  ran  away  from  him." 

"  Farrell  isn't  altogether  to  blame,"  returned  Mrs. 
Brinton,  "  though  I  shall  not  forget  soon  how  he 
put  me  in  my  place.  But  he  is  the  product  of 
environment.  The  suburbs  of  Boston  are  full  of 


CONCERNING  A  JOURNEY        261 

Farrells.  There  is  something  in  the  air  and  the  tra- 
ditions of  this  part  of  the  country  which  leads  either 
to  extreme  and  impossible  virtue  or  to  utter  deprav- 
ity. No  one  knows  how  to  strike  a  golden  mean. 
I  have  been  more  frozen  and  more  shocked  in  Boston 
than  in  any  other  city  in  the  country.  And,  oh, 
John,  the  things  some  of  the  debutantes  talk  about. 
The  sophisticated  Boston  young  woman  would  shock 
a  Broadway  soubrette!  Not  in  what  she  does,  of 
course,  but  in  what  she  says.  Heavens ! "  Mrs. 
Brinton's  expressive  hands  were  held  up  in 
despair. 

"  Really,"  sighed  Strong,  "  Boston  is  extraordi- 
nary. What  you  tell  me  doesn't  make  me  feel  any 
more  comfortable  about  it.  I  wish  I  was  back  in 
New  York."  He  relapsed  into  gloomy  silence. 
The  beauty  of  the  day,  the  charm  of  the  wonderful 
garden  and  the  quiet  peace  of  the  hour  were  wasted 
upon  them.  They  were  beyond  the  comfort  which 
Nature  extends  to  all  who  listen  to  her.  Their  ears 
and  eyes  were  turned  inward. 

Doyle,  quietly  entering  the  gate,  caught  sight  of 
them,  stopped  for  a  moment  and  enjoyed  the  mirth- 
less picture  with  a  smile.  Then  he  stepped  briskly 
forward  and  they  started  a  little  shame-facedly,  as 
people  do  when  they  are  caught  off  guard. 


262          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Well,  what  are  you  two  up  to,  anyway  ?  "  he 
asked  mischievously.  "Planning  an  elopement?" 

"  No,  Michael,"  returned  Mrs.  Brinton  sadly, 
"  nor  any  other  form  of  matrimony." 

"  But  it's  grand  marrying  weather,"  Doyle  re- 
turned sincerely.  "  I've  had  a  walk  and  a  think  and 
I'm  the  better  for  it.  I've  got  to  get  the  widow  out 
of  my  system.  A  wedding's  a  weird  ceremony  when 
you  watch  the  other  fellow  get  the  one  woman !  "  He 
sat  down  and  pulled  himself  together.  "  And  now 
won't  you  and  John,  here,  oblige  me?  " 

"  No,  no,  Michael,"  she  broke  in  firmly. 

"Ain't  that  a  pity,  now  —  just  when  I  have  my 
hand  in,"  he  returned  in  a  blithe  second,  "  I  was 
countin'  on  standin'  up  with  ye,  and  perhaps  kissin' 
the  bride." 

"No  such  luck!"  croaked  Strong.  "What  the 
devil's  the  matter  here  to-day,  Michael?  We  all 
look  like  tombstones !  Margaret  seems  to  think  that 
Ellie  and  Dal  aren't  happy !  " 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  Not  happy  ?  "  Doyle 
displayed  great  interest. 

"  They  both  look  so  damnably  wretched.  Do  you 
think  the  marriage  was  a  mistake?  " 

The    Irishman    thought    hard    a    moment    as    he 


CONCERNING  A  JOURNEY        263 

lighted  a  cigar.  He  puffed  solemnly.  "  I  wonder  if 
that's  true  now!  Well!  Well!" 

Mrs.  Brinton's  nerves  began  to  jump  again  and 
she  rose  and  walked  back  and  forth  uneasily.  "  I 
tell  you  we  never  ought  to  have  let  them  do  it,"  she 
said.  "  They're  too  — "  she  paused.  "  I  know 
they're  not  a  bit  happy!  At  all  events,  Ellie  isn't. 
I'm  a  woman  and  I  feel  that.  As  for  Dal,  I  know 
nothing  about  men,  and — " 

Doyle  quickly  interrupted  her.  "  Mrs.  Brinton, 
may  the  Lord  forgive  ye.  So  you  know  nothing 
about  men?  Why,  ye  were  born  knowing  all 
about  'em!  Every  woman  is!  It's  the  cunning  of 
nature!  And  Jack  here,  ye  know,  ye're  only 
devilin'  him.  You  wouldn't  be  such  a  fool  as  to 
give  some  other  woman  the  chance  at  him.  Ah,  well, 
it's  Irish  I  am  and  single,  and  it's  warm  and  I'm 
lonesome,  and  I  feel  sentimental  and  full  of  desires 
and  other  discomforts.  Lucky  Dal!  Ye  couldn't 
make  me  believe  he  hasn't  the  finest  luck  in  the  world, 
with  that  witch,  Ellie,  belonging  to  him  this  day. 
I'd  get  her  yet  if  somebody  would  kill  Dal  off  for 
me." 

Mrs.  Brinton,  in  tears  again,  shook  her  head 
gravely  at  the  Irishman. 


264          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Michael,  we're  on  the  verge  of  some  awful  calam- 
ity and  you  won't  be  serious,"  she  cried.  "  Do  go 
away !  " 

"  Go  and  cheer  Dal  up  a  bit,"  urged  the  pacifica- 
tory Strong.  "  The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  was 
watching  his  man  pack  his  bag  and  he  looked  as  if 
he  were  watching  him  dig  his  grave." 

"  I'd  go  and  offer  to  take  the  bride  off  his  hands 
if  I  thought  there  was  a  chance  for  me,"  said  Michael 
rising.  "  Perhaps  it's  only  a  drink  he  needs.  Well, 
I'm  off  to  do  whatever  I  can  for  him.  And  you  two 
reckless,  riotin'  devil-may-cares,  don't  run  off  and  do 
anything  foolish  while  I  am  gone." 


CHAPTER    XX 

AN    ADVANCED    EXPERIMENT 

MEANWHILE  the  efforts  of  Amos  Thomas  to  reach 
Brookline  to  claim  his  bride  were  not  unattended  by 
adventure.  Thomas,  being  always  of  the  opinion 
that  society  owed  him  a  living,  indulged  in  little 
individual  providence.  He  was  Pickwickian  in  a 
confidence  that  something  would  turn  up  at  the  mo- 
ment of  need.  Thus  he  bid  Anna  an  airy  good-bye  a 
few  hours  before  she  left  for  Brookline,  sure  that 
he  would  be  on  hand  in  time  to  meet  her  late  in  the 
afternoon  at  the  home  of  the  new  Mrs.  Dallas.  The 
details  of  his  own  wedding  he  was  perfectly  willing 
to  leave  to  his  bride.  He  knew  she  had  written  on 
ten  days  earlier  to  Boston  to  her  manicure  friend  and 
her  priest.  The  latter,  she  said,  had  filed  the  needed 
notice  for  the  license.  All  he  would  have  to  do 
would  be  to  call  for  it  when  he  reached  Boston,  and 
pay  the  fee. 

Not  until  late  in  the  day  did  it  occur  to  him  that 
he   might   need    any    wedding    finery.     The    related 

matter  of  money  presented  itself  to  his  mind.     He 

265 


266          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

ran  through  his  pockets  and  found  he  had  only  a  few 
dollars  less  than  the  fare  to  Boston.  It  was  there- 
fore necessary  for  him  to  look  up  some  of  the  com- 
rades to  whom  he  had  given  money  in  moments  of 
comparative  affluence. 

Thomas  steered  his  way  to  Fifth  Avenue  and  the 
public  library  quite  certain  that  he  would  find  some 
of  his  compatriots  reading  over  the  newspapers  and 
magazines.  He,  himself,  had  a  favoured  chair  there 
at  one  of  the  reading  desks,  which  he  considered  his 
"  office."  Fate  seemed  to  be  propitious.  No  sooner 
had  he  gained  his  favoured  quarter  of  the  building 
than  he  saw  three  of  his  friends  close  together. 
He  indistinctly  remembered  turning  over  indefinite 
amounts  to  each. 

But  there  was  hardly  enough  of  that  capitalistic 
contraband  money  on  any  one  of  them  to  convict  him 
of  subscription  to  an  iniquitous  system  of  govern- 
ment. 

Thomas  left  in  disgust.  He  stood  on  the  broad 
steps  of  the  library  and  watched  the  rich  flood  of 
traffic  flowing  up  and  down  the  avenue.  He  did  not 
see  one  person  in  motor,  carriage,  bus  or  on  foot  who 
did  not  look  what  he  would  describe  as  "  rotten  with 
money."  Growing  desperate  he  meditated  various 
enterprises.  He  even  wondered  how  a  hold-up  was 


AN  ADVANCED   EXPERIMENT      267 

achieved.  But,  however  sure  he  was  of  the  capital- 
ist's lack  of  right  to  the  money  he  carried,  Thomas 
was  no  man  for  strenuous  measures. 

The  easiest  way  was  always  his.  He  had  a  brother 
in  New  York,  a  small  shop  keeper  far  uptown. 
Under  all  ordinary  circumstances  he  despised  his 
relative  as  a  hopeless  and  acquiescent  reactionary. 
The  Socialist  turned  to  Sixth  Avenue,  paid  a  nickel 
out  of  his  small  financial  store  and  fared  far  North 
on  an  elevated  car.  Leaving  the  train  he  turned 
into  a  narrow  side  street  which  on  this  fine  June  even- 
ing was  swarming  with  children,  hurdy-gurdies  and 
dogs.  He  found  the  shop  without  difficulty.  It 
was  a  combination  of  news-stand,  candy  store  and 
small  grocery.  His  brother,  a  small,  pale,  baldish 
man  with  near-sighted  eyes  peering  through  untidy 
steel-rimmed  spectacles,  looked  up  from  a  little  pack- 
age he  was  handing  to  a  child. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Amos !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Have  you 
come  back  to  give  me  that  twenty?  I'd  said  good- 
bye to  that." 

"  What  a  nice  greeting  to  a  brother  who  hasn't 
seen  you  for  a  year,"  returned  Amos  with  some  asper- 
ity. "  I'd  forgotten  about  that."  He  hesitated  a 
moment.  "  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Will.  Give  me 
twenty  more  and  I'll  pay  you  the  whole  amount  in 


268  YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

two  weeks.  I'm  going  to  be  married.  In  fact — " 
he  looked  at  his  brother  impressively  — "  I'm  en- 
gaged to  a  very  rich  woman." 

The  other  looked  at  him  dubiously.  *'  This  prob- 
ably means  throwing  good  money  after  bad.  And 
you  used  to  go  on  about  marriage  being  all  foolish- 
ness. What's  changed  your  mind?  " 

"  A  woman/'  returned  Amos.  "  Now  don't  be  an 
ass."  He  assumed  an  attitude  of  superiority  which 
seemed  to  impress  his  cringing  relative.  "  Either 
give  me  the  money  or  don't.  You  can  have  my  note 
if  that  will  make  you  feel  any  better  about  the 
matter." 

"  I  think  I'll  take  it,  if  you  don't  mind,  and  for 
the  whole  amount."  He  wrote  out  the  necessary 
statement.  Thomas  signed,  and  immediately,  the 
moment  the  money  was  in  hand,  he  rushed  off  fearful 
that  his  brother  might  undergo  a  change  of  mind. 

He  hurried  off  for  his  room  farther  downtown 
and  on  the  way  bought  as  the  principal  item  of  his 
wedding  outfit  a  black  Windsor  tie.  He  changed  to 
his  best  summer  suit  of  clothes,  a  rather  neat  grey, 
shaved  and  primped  a  bit  and  then  hunted  for  a  New 
York  and  New  Haven  time  table.  It  was  important 
to  find  a  night  train  which  carried  a  day  car  for  he 
knew  he  couldn't  afford  a  Pullman  fare. 


AN  ADVANCED   EXPERIMENT       269 

Late  in  the  night  he  began  his  journey  to  Boston 
stiffly  propped  up  in  the  seat  of  a  coach.  The  car 
was  crowded.  A  young  man  who  evidently  had  been 
experimenting  with  life  along  the  Gay  White  Way 
exhaled  unmistakable  fumes  by  his  side;  an  Italian 
family,  running  in  all  sizes  from  "  padre  "  to  "  bam- 
bino "  occupied  a  pair  of  double  seats  ahead  and 
varied  other  items  in  the  great  army  of  those  who 
travel  cheaply  noisily  marked  the  way.  Thomas 
slept  very  little;  for  the  most  part  he  watched  the 
shapeless  landscape  of  the  night  slip  away  beside  the 
car.  The  train  stopped  everywhere;  the  engine  had 
a  weakness  for  backing,  buckling  and  jerking  and 
every  time  there  was  a  halt,  the  dissonance  of  snores 
in  the  car  was  terrifying.  The  Socialist  welcomed 
with  great  relief  the  coming  of  the  early  dawn  and 
the  growing  morning.  He  opened  his  window  wide 
and  revelled  in  the  freshness  of  the  young  June  day. 
It  was  mid-morning  when  the  belated  train  ran  halt- 
ingly into  the  Boston  terminal. 

By  the  time  he  had  gotten  into  communication 
with  Anna's  friend  and  the  priest  and  accomplished 
the  important  errand  for  the  license  it  was  after- 
noon. He  then  hurried  out  to  Brookline  and  called 
Anna  on  the  telephone.  She  warned  him  not  to 
appear  before  5  o'clock.  But  he  wandered  out  to 


270          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

be  sure  he  would  know  the  house  when  the  time  came 
and  then  loitered  near  in  a  convenient  bit  of  wood- 
land. Promptly  on  the  stroke  of  the  hour  he  was 
at  the  house.  He  rang  the  bell  at  an  innocent-look- 
ing side  door  and  was  quite  astonished  to  be  con- 
fronted by  Metz. 

"Tell,  tell—"  he  hesitated.  "Inform  Mrs. 
Brinton  that  I  am  here  and  would  like  to  see  her." 

Metz  looked  him  over  coolly  but  nodded  and  went 
off. 

He  caught  sight  of  Anna  just  as  Metz  left.  She 
rushed  to  him.  "  Go  back  of  the  house,"  she  said 
hastily.  "  I'll  be  out  in  a  moment  or  two." 

Metz  returned  to  say  that  Mrs.  Brinton  was  in 
the  garden  and  would  see  him.  He  followed  the 
butler  uncomfortably,  but  as  he  reached  the  garden 
his  step  became  brisk,  he  rearranged  the  red  flower 
in  his  buttonhole  and  the  ingratiating  Thomas  man- 
ner appeared  again.  As  he  saw  Mrs.  Brinton  he 
raised  his  straw  hat  with  much  manner. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  want  of  me?  "  Mrs.  Brin- 
ton asked  rising. 

Seeing  Strong  and  Doyle  he  first  said :  "  How 
are  you,  gentlemen?  I  suppose  this  felicitous  occa- 
sion has  brought  you  all  to  Brookline.  How  is  the 
bride?"  He  turned  to  Mrs.  Brinton.  "Radiant, 


AN  ADVANCED   EXPERIMENT      271 

I  am  sure,  and  the  happy  man  —  I  quite  envy 
him." 

"  I  am  certain  you  did  not  come  all  this  distance 
to  offer  congratulations  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas," 
commented  Strong.  "  If  /  am  in  the  way  here  — " 

"  Not  at  all,"  airily  interrupted  Thomas.  "  I 
don't  believe  in  reticence.  It's  a  foolish,  old-time 
conventionality.  I  always  speak  out  in  beautiful, 
frank  freedom.  One's  soul  should  rise  above  the 
petty  ideas  and  customs  of  men." 

"  That  being  so,"  urged  Mrs.  Brinton,  "  sit  down 
and  tell  me  your  news.  I  know  you  well  enough  to 
think  it  worth  while.  I  will  say  for  you,  you  are 
never  commonplace,  Mr.  Thomas." 

He  took  a  chair  with  much  ceremony.  "  I'm 
going  to  be  married,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  Does 
that  surprise  you?  Do  you  ask  me  to  whom?  " 

"Why  should  we?"  said  Strong,  who  was  much 
bored.  "  It  doesn't  interest  us." 

"  It  interests  me !  "  Mrs.  Brinton  insisted.  "  I'm 
dying  to  know." 

"  Well,"  he  began,  "  I  do  not  expect  to  be  under- 
stood. Natures  like  mine  rarely  are.  After  my 
unfortunate  set-to  with  the  fire-escape,  that  memor- 
able afternoon,  not  one  of  you  even  said  '  good-bye  ' 
to  me.  Full  of  your  own  selfish  desires,  you  let  me 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

go  out  uncheered  into  what  seemed  then  a  heartless 
world.  But  just  as  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
way —  that  same  stairway  on  which  our  mutual 
friend  had  first  leaned  towards  me  in  all  her  womanly 
charm  —  a  little  dove  fluttered  to  my  bruisad  heart. 
She  comforted  me,  she  bewailed  my  misfortunes,  and 
she  took  me  into  the  dining-room,  your  dining-room 
when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  and  poured  me  a  glass  of 
sherry  to  stay  my  fainting  spirit." 

"  My  sherry,  too,"  commented  Mrs.  Brinton, 
amused  for  the  first  time  in  the  day.  "  But  what's 
sherry  at  a  moment  like  this.  And  the  fluttering 
dove?" 

"  She  let  me  out  into  the  twilight,  saddened  but 
comforted." 

"  It  couldn't  have  been  Cook  —  now,  that  flutter- 
ing dove  ?  "  asked  Strong,  growing  interested.  "  I 
hope  it  isn't  Mrs.  Brinton's  cook." 

"  It  was  the  handmaiden  of  our  mutual  friend, 
Mrs.  Dallas  —  Anna  Merkel,"  announced  Thomas 
with  a  smirk. 

"  Anna  ?  So  that's  why  she's  leaving !  She  told 
me  she  had  a  situation,"  added  Mrs.  Brinton,  laugh- 
ing. "  So  you  are  the  situation." 

"  Situation  is  a  mild  word  for  him !  "  commented 
Strong  under  his  breath. 


"  Since  then,"  continued  Thomas,  now  much  satis- 
fied with  himself,  "  we  have  communed  often  and 
written  many  letters.  I  find  in  her  fresh,  young 
mind  much  that  interests  me." 

"  And  she  is  a  remarkably  good-looking  girl," 
added  Strong. 

"  Yes,  she  is  pretty,"  granted  Mrs.  Brinton. 

"  She  is  indeed !  "  Thomas  emphasised  it,  "  and 
who  am  I  to  ignore  nature's  allurements  ?  " 

"Well,  well!"  chortled  Strong.  "We're  all 
human." 

"  I  have  it  in  my  mind  to  make  experiments  of 
theories  never  fully  understood  by  this  scoffing 
world."  Thomas  was  once  more  in  his  own  world, 
the  world  of  discussion.  "  Anna  and  I  may  yet  be 
heard  from." 

"  Amos  Thomas ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brinton, 
shocked.  "  You  are  surely  out  of  your  mind.  To 
turn  from  Eleanor  Howard  to  Anna  Merkel.  I  be- 
lieve you  are  only  doing  this  to  humiliate  her." 

"  I  suppose  it  will  serve  as  a  petty  annoyance," 
he  responded,  "  but  what  matter?  She  has  made 
her  choice.  I  would  have  guided  her  into  rose-col- 
oured paths  unknown  to  her,  but  she  would  not !  So 
I  have  found  this  modest  violet  and  plucked  it  for 
my  own." 


274  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Hurrah  for  the  violet !  "  exclaimed  Strong. 

Thomas  looked  at  him,  very  annoyed.  "  Anna 
leaves  Mrs.  Dallas  to-day,  and  I  have  come  to  fetch 
her.  From  now  on  I  will  protect  her." 

"  But  you  don't  believe  in  marriage,"  said  Mrs. 
Brinton. 

"  Really !  Don't  you?  "  asked  Strong,  much  inter- 
ested. 

"  No,  I  don't,  but  I  waive  my  views ! "  Thomas 
returned. 

"  I  actually  believe,  Margaret,  he's  going  to  make 
a  scientific  experiment  of  poor  Anna,"  said  Strong. 
"  Excuse  me,  but  I  must  go  and  tell  Dal.  It  will 
really  make  him  smile.  Nothing  else  has  to-day." 
He  went  towards  the  house. 

"  And  send  Anna  out  here,"  Mrs.  Brinton  called 
after  him.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  her." 

Strong  turned.  "  Very  well,  and  Mr.  Thomas, 
my  best  wishes  to  you  in  your  —  experiment !  " 

"  How  hateful  of  you  to  try  and  spoil  Ellie's  wed- 
ding day,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton  when  Strong  had  gone. 
"  I  wondered  why  Anna  was  so  ready  to  leave.  She 
refused  to  go  with  Mrs.  Howard  on  her  honey- 
moon." 

Thomas  ignored  her  reproof.  "  She  adores  me, 
and  we  shall  be  quite  happy." 


AN  ADVANCED  EXPERIMENT      275 

"  Well,  one  might  as  well  give  up  trying  to  find 
out  why  people  marry  people.  It's  quite  beyond 
human  understanding."  Mrs.  Brinton's  soul  was 
sinking  again. 

Anna  came  down  the  steps  from  the  house  at  this 
moment,  with  her  hat  on  and  a  jacket  thrown  over 
her  arm.  She  had  a  small  bag  which  she  dropped  as 
she  saw  Thomas.  He  rushed  to  her  delightedly. 

"My  own  little  Anna!"  he  cried.  "Are  you 
ready  ?  " 

She  turned  to  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  Madame  will  par- 
don Monsieur  Thomas?  He  is  so  romantique.  He 
always  speak  the  word  right  out." 

"  Anna,  I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  I  think  you  are 
making  a  great  mistake  to  marry  Mr.  Thomas. 
He'll  never  understand  you  or  make  you  happy. 
And  you  are  such  a  good  maid.  It's  a  calamity  for 
Mrs.  Dallas  to  have  to  give  you  up  now." 

"  Ah,  Madame,"  Anna  returned.  "  I  know  what 
people  will  say.  But  for  me,  I  have  the  aspiration, 
and  Mr.  Thomas,  he  find  the  way  for  me.  I  have 
always  the  desire  for  romance,  the  excitement.  I 
could  not  live  with  the  good  Metz  or  someone  like 
him.  I  want  the  uncertain,  the  fairy  tale." 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Thomas  will  always  play 
Romeo?  My  poor  child!  Men  aren't  like  that." 


276          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  Did  you  tell  Mrs.  Dallas?  "  Thomas  turned  to 
Anna. 

"  I  did,  Monsieur  Thomas,  and  I  do  not  know  if 
she  laugh  or  cry.  She  have  a  little  Tiysterique! 
But  she  is  so  kind,  the  Madame  Dallas.  She  have 
given  me  so  wonderful  a  present  —  I  have  lose  my 
breath," 

"Some  trinket,  eh?"  he  asked.  "Or  perhaps  a 
gold  piece?  " 

"  If  you  would  only  let  Anna  talk.  Do  wait. 
You'll  have  years  to  step  on  her."  Thomas  galled 
Mrs.  Brinton  unusually  on  this  occasion. 

"  She  has  given  me  five  hundred  dollar,"  Anna 
finally  explained. 

"  Very  generous,  upon  my  word,"  commented 
Thomas,  trying  to  be  easy.  "  Most  kind,  indeed !  " 

"  She  have  said  it  was  cheap  at  that,"  Anna  con- 
tinued with  a  curious  little  smile,  "  that  she  might 
have  paid  much  more.  But  I  do  not  know  what  she 
mean  by  that." 

"I  do,  she's  right,"  said  Mrs.  Brinton.  "A 
thousand  would  be  cheap." 

"  We  —  er  —  shall  accept  it  in  the  generous  spirit 
it  was  given,"  Thomas  put  in  his  word  in  his  usual 
airy  manner.  "  It  takes  a  fine  nature  to  receive 
properly.  Are  we  ready  my  —  nesting  bird?" 


AN  ADVANCED  EXPERIMENT      277 

"  Anna,  when  are  you  to  be  married  —  to-day  ?  " 
demanded  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  See  that  he  does  marry 
you.  Look  out  for  that."  She  did  not  trust 
Thomas. 

"  Do  not  fear,  Madame.  I  go  now  to  my  friend's 
house,  a  manicure.  She  prepare  a  feast  and  the 
Priest  marry  us  in  the  chapel  at  eight.  I  may  be 
fond  of  Monsieur  Thomas,  but  I  have  my  senses 
still.  Monsieur  Thomas,  he  know  that.  And  I 
promise  Madame  to  put  my  money  in  the  Savings 
Bank  in  my  name,  except  for  a  little  I  put  in  the 
manicure  shop  with  my  friend,  for  I  stay  here. 
Monsieur  Thomas  he  believe  weddings  are  happier  if 
the  woman  work  as  well  as  the  man.  And  I  think 
so,  too.  If  he  is  not  good  to  me,  then  I  am  not 
helpless." 

"  And  what,  I  pray,  is  Mr.  Thomas  going  to  do?  " 
Mrs.  Brinton  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"  Well,"  he  explained  pompously,  "  I  will  stay 
here,  too.  New  York  no  longer  appeals  to  me  as  a 
field  for  my  propaganda.  It  is  too  big,  too  wedded 
to  Mammon,  too  formidable  for  one  poor  pawn  to 
move.  Here  in  Boston  I  hope  to  find  more  receptive 
soil.  Don't  worry,  Mrs.  Brinton,  you'll  hear  of  me 
yet!" 

"  Adieu,  Madame  Brinton,"  said  Anna  tearfully, 


278  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

*'  I  sorrow  to  leave  Madame  Dallas.  I  fear  she 
grow  careless  alone." 

"  Good-bye,  little  Anna.  I  really  believe  you  may 
make  something  of  your  reformer  if  you  are  not 
swallowed  up  in  Eugenics  or  some  other  equally  dis- 
mal form  of  progress.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Thomas. 
You  don't  deserve  her." 

"  Who  knows  when  our  paths  will  cross  again?  " 
He  kissed  Mrs.  Brinton's  hand  with  an  extravagant 
gesture. 

Thomas  turned  to  the  gate  and  stalked  majes- 
tically ahead  of  Anna.  She  looked  back  at  her  bag, 
which  he  had  ignored  calmly.  About  to  speak  to 
him  she  changed  her  mind  and  got  it  herself,  tagging 
along  after  him  with  her  burden. 

"  My ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Brinton,  quite  overcome. 
*'  He  is  making  her  do  all  the  work  already." 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    BRIDE    CONFESSES 

MICHAEL,  DOYLE  had  joined  John  Strong  in  an  effort 
to  cheer  Dallas,  who  seemed  overcome  with  a  gloom 
that  no  amount  of  drinks  or  amusing  stories  could 
lift.  Michael,  who  still  coveted  the  bride  with  great 
desire,  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  understand 
Dallas'  condition.  A  little  nervousness,  even  blue 
funk  at  the  last  moment,  was  natural  enough,  and  he 
had  secretly  expected  the  self-possessed  Dallas  to 
make  his  marriage  vows  in  a  trembling,  stuttering 
undertone,  or  to  see  him  meet  his  bride  with  a  face 
as  white  as  the  traditional  sheet.  But  to  his  sur- 
prise, Dallas  had  never  seemed  more  at  ease  nor  more 
graceful  than  during  the  little  wedding  ceremony 
in  which,  after  all  the  long,  gay  years  of  free  lancing, 
he  was  made  a  benedict.  That  awkward  moment 
passed  and  the  tedium  of  the  family  greetings  and 
congratulations  over,  the  wedding  breakfast  eaten, 
and  the  few  guests  cheered  on  their  various  ways, 
Michael  expected  to  see  his  friend  eager  for  the  de- 
parture of  the  faithful  three,  Margaret  Brinton,  John 

and  himself,  so  that  he  might  finally  have  his  beauti- 

279 


280          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

ful  bride  to  himself.  But  Dallas  was  particularly 
loathe  to  have  his  old  friends  leave  him.  He  insisted 
upon  their  waiting  until  the  very  late  train  just 
before  dinner,  and  they  both  felt  so  moved  by  his 
depression  and  the  fashion  in  which  he  entreated 
them  that  they  remained  without  protest,  both 
vaguely  realising  that  something  far  deeper  than 
ordinary  nervousness  was  troubling  the  bridegroom. 

Dallas  sat  wrapped  in  oppressive  silence  in  a  big 
guest  room  of  Mrs.  Howard's  old-fashioned  house, 
his  trunks  and  bags  about  him,  his  valet  busily  en- 
gaged in  sorting  and  arranging  his  things.  Johnson, 
the  man,  was  to  accompany  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dallas 
abroad,  and  he  was  to  take  the  trunks  and  large  bags 
into  Boston,  where  they  were  to  join  him  early  the 
next  morning  to  take  the  boat,  for  at  the  last  mo- 
ment Mrs.  Dallas  had  insisted  upon  spending  the 
night  in  Brookline.  She  seemed  so  upset  when  Dallas 
urged  their  going  into  Boston  that  he  consented, 
willing,  as  he  always  was,  to  sacrifice  his  own  pleasure 
for  hers.  She  had  gone  to  her  room  to  dress  and 
now  that  he  had  changed  his  black  coat  and  other 
wedding  garments  for  a  blue  serge  suit,  in  which  he 
looked  handsomer  than  usual,  he  smoked  while 
Michael  and  John  begged  him  to  have  a  little  courage 
and  take  heart. 


THE  BRIDE  CONFESSES          281 

"  My  word,"  Michael  stormed  at  him.  "  Ye  ain't 
the  first  man  to  get  married  to  a  woman.  Ye  know, 
Dal,  it's  been  done  often  before."  The  Irishman  sat 
on  a  trunk  smoking  like  a  furnace,  a  whiskey  sour  in 
his  hand,  and  much  earnestness  in  his  soul.  He  was 
really  growing  angry  at  Dal.  It  seemed  almost  a 
slight  to  Ellie,  this  melancholy,  and  he  resented  it. 
She  still  was  the  one  woman  in  the  world  worth  win- 
ning as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and  he  thought  as 
he  sat  there  that  Dallas  certainly  did  not  half  appre- 
ciate her.  She  had  looked  so  exquisite,  so  girlish 
and  shy  in  her  wedding  finery,  and  there  was  so 
wistful  a  timidity  about  her,  so  unlike  her  usually 
saucy  self,  that  she  had  quite  touched  his  warm 
heart.  He  longed  for  her  fiercely,  so  that  he  felt 
choked  by  it,  and  he  scowled  over  his  cigar  to  keep 
back  tears  which  had  been  perilously  near  the  surface 
all  day. 

.  John  Strong  paced  up  and  down  like  a  caged  ani- 
mal. Between  Margaret's  change  of  heart  and  Dai's 
depression  he  was  almost  beside  himself.  While 
Johnson  was  consulting  Dallas  about  the  relative 
merits  of  a  pile  of  gay  hued  neckscarfs,  John  drew 
Michael  over  to  the  doorway. 

"  Go  off  and  let  me  see  what  I  can  do  with  him, 
Michael,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  am  sure  he'll 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

tell  me  if  we're  alone.  See  if  you  can't  see  Ellie  and 
tell  her  Dal  is  really  unhappy.  Perhaps  she's  been 
teasing  him.  She  often  does." 

Michael  nodded.  "I'll  go,"  he  said,  "and  I'll 
see  Ellie  too,  God  love  her.  It's  a  shame  she  should 
be  wasted  on  that  gloom  cloud !  I'm  going  now,  Dal," 
he  added  in  a  louder  tone. 

Dallas  turned  as  Michael  went  to  the  door.  "  I'll 
see  you  before  you  go,"  he  said  indifferently. 

Doyle  made  his  way  along  the  hall  to  Mrs.  Dallas' 
room.  Anna  had  gone,  but  Mrs.  Brinton's  Lucy  was 
helping  the  bride  with  the  last  few  things.  He 
knocked  on  the  door  discreetly. 

"  Ellie,"  he  said,  "  it's  Michael,  and  I'm  dyin'  for 
a  word  with  ye.  Can't  ye  come  down  in  the  garden 
a  moment  alone  with  me?  " 

Mrs.  Howard's  voice  was  full  of  sweetness.  "  Dear 
Irishman,"  she  said  from  the  other  side  of  the  door, 
"where  is  Dal?" 

"  Working  at  his  neckties.  He's  safe  enough.  Do 
come,"  he  begged. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  old  Michael  had  come 
back  again,  and  she  opened  her  door  a  crack  as  she 
had  on  the  afternoon  she  dismissed  him.  She  smiled 
as  she  had  not  done  all  day. 


THE  BRIDE  CONFESSES 

"  I'm  dying  to  talk  to  you  too,"  she  said.  "And 
I'll  go  down  in  the  garden  with  you  this  second." 

She  had  changed  her  wedding  dress  for  a  delicate 
white  lace,  with  a  touch  of  pale  green  at  the  belt,  and 
she  looked  to  Doyle  like  an  exquisite  lily,  she  was  so 
fair  and  white.  He  tucked  his  arm  in  hers,  and 
they  went  in  silence  down  the  stairway,  and  out  into 
the  sweet-smelling  garden,  without  meeting  anyone. 
Margaret  Brinton  sitting  in  the  high-backed  bath 
chair  was  almost  hidden  from  view  and  the  two  did 
not  notice  her. 

Mrs.  Dallas  was  a  bit  tearful,  and  dabbed  her  eyes 
with  her  tiny  lace  handkerchief.  Even  at  this  junc- 
ture Michael  detected  the  fragrance  of  heliotrope  and 
loved  it  better  than  all  the  flowers  growing  in  the 
garden.  He  guided  Mrs.  Dallas  to  a  seat  and  stood 
in  front  of  her,  gazing  down  at  her  with  fervent  ad- 
miration in  his  eyes. 

"  What  are  ye  cryin'  about,  Ellie  darling?  It  was  a 
beautiful  weddin',  and  ye  were  lovely  enough  to 
charm  St.  Peter  out  of  heaven." 

Mrs.  Dallas  dabbed  her  eyes  again  and  sniffled  a 
little.  Then  she  smiled,  a  slow,  tearful  smile.  "  I'm 
so  glad  you  liked  the  wedding.  It's  more  than  good 
of  you  to  be  here  at  all  —  after  —  well,  I  wasn't  nice 


284  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

to  you,  Irishman,  and  I  am  ashamed  of  it.  I  didn't 
expect  you  to  forgive  me  and  to  be  so  charming. 
And  what  a  perfect  punch," —  she  wiped  her  eyes 
again, — "  you  brewed !  You  dear  Michael  — " 

He  leaned  down  and  patted  her  hands.  "  If  it  was 
all  as  easy  as  brewin'  a  punch !  "  he  said.  "  Now, 
don't  ye  worry  your  pretty  head  over  it,  Widow. 
Once  I'd  cooled  my  blood  I  knew  I  couldn't  have  put 
it  over.  You're  too  fine  for  me.  I'd  have  broken  ye 
body  and  soul  tryin'  to  understand  ye.  And  Dal  is 
the  King  pin.  He's  worthy  of  ye.  Ye'll  make  a 
wonderful  pair.  I  envy  ye  both,  Ellie." 

Mrs.  Dallas  patted  his  kindly  hand  warmly. 
"  You're  such  a  comfort,"  she  said.  "  You'd  cheer 
anybody.  I  often  regret — "  She  paused,  for  she 
suddenly  realised  what  she  was  saying.  He  smiled  at 
her,  she  often  seemed  a  big  child  to  him,  and  he  loved 
that  in  her.  It  was  so  unworldly. 

"  Don't  ye  do  it !  "  he  said.  "  If  Dallas  can't  make 
ye  happy,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  get  the  chance ;  for  I'm 
a  child  with  your  sex  compared  to  him.  When  they 
were  givin'  out  the  grey  matter,  Dallas  sat  on  the 
front  bench.  It's  himself  knows  the  sex !  Dal  al- 
ways could  understand  a  misunderstood  woman. 
And  together  ye  ought  to  break  a  law  or  two.  I 
wouldn't  put  anything  beyond  ye." 


THE  BRIDE   CONFESSES  285 

She  smiled  again.  "  I  always  did  love  your  flatter- 
ing tongue,  Irishman.  It's  got  a  great  big  lure  in  it 
somewhere."  She  looked  up  at  him  with  genuine  af- 
fection. How  understanding  he  was,  and  what  a 
friend  in  need.  Mrs.  Brinton  rose  slowly  and  came 
over  to  them. 

"  I  suppose  I  seem  to  be  eavesdropping,"  she  said. 
"  But  I  really  wasn't.  I  was  so  lost  in  my  own 
thoughts  that  I  have  just  realised  you  two  were 
here.  And  I  won't  interrupt  you,  only,  Ellie,  what 
is  the  matter,  dearest?  You  do  seem  so,  so  un- 
happy." 

Sympathy  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Dallas  at  the 
moment  and  she  rose  and  threw  herself  into  Mrs. 
Brinton's  arms,  tearfully  hugging  her  and  trying  in- 
coherently to  explain,  "  Don't  go,  Peg  —  I  —  it's  — 
it's  — " 

"What  is  it?  "  asked  Mrs.  Brinton  nervously,  the 
tears  starting  in  her  own  eyes.  "  Ellie  dearest,  don't 
cry !  " 

She  soothed  the  tearful  bride  with  her  face  full  of 
frightened  entreaty.  Then  she  turned  to  Michael 
who  nodded  understandingly. 

"  Bless  your  hearts,"  he  said  briskly.  "  What's 
come  over  ye  both?  The  bride's  unhappy  before 
she's  even  started  on  her  honeymoon,  and  the  brides- 


286          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

maid's  cryin'  with  her.  Tell  it  to  Michael  Doyle, 
girls,  perhaps  he  can  help  ye." 

Mrs.  Dallas  shook  her  head,  as  she  drew  away  from 
Mrs.  Brinton's  tender  embrace.  "  No  one  can  help 
me,"  she  said  miserably,  "  I  feel  —  I  — " 

Mrs.  Brinton  grew  really  alarmed.  "  Ellie,  my 
dear,  please,  what  is  it?  You  know  we  both  love  you. 
Tell  us  what  bothers  you." 

Michael  put  his  arm  around  Mrs.  Dallas  who  was 
weeping  softly.  "  Come,  come,"  he  said  to  her. 
"  Nothing  is  so  bad  as  that,"  Mrs.  Brinton  looked  at 
Mrs.  Dallas,  her  own  eyes  overflowing.  "  Oh,  oh, 
Ellie,"  she  wailed.  "  What  has  happened?  I'm 
frightened."  Michael  put  his  other  arm  around  Mrs. 
Brinton  and  the  two  women  leaned  on  his  shoulders, 
sobbing,  while  he  patted  them  gently.  Mrs.  Dallas 
found  her  voice  first,  and  in  broken  sentences  un- 
burdened her  soul. 

"  The  honeymoon  —  the  —  the  —  trip  —  and  all 
of  it !  "  she  cried  between  sobs  and  sniffs.  "  I  don't 
want  to  go  junketing  off  on  a  honeymoon.  I  can't 
bear  my  new  clothes.  I  hate  being  a  bride.  I  want  to 
stay  here  in  Brookline  and  be  comfortable.  I  was 
just  looking  at  my  old  clothes  —  so  nice  and  homey, 
and  my  knitting  needles !  There's  a  little  one  with  a 
sealing-wax  knob  that  I've  had  for  twenty  years.  I 


THE  BRIDE   CONFESSES  287 

said  I  never  would  knit  again,  but  I'm  dying  to." 
She  looked  about  the  garden.  "  When  I  think  of  the 
years  I've  sat  here  knitting  baby  blankets  in  stripes 
of  blue  and  white !  It's  so  restful.  I  wonder  why  I 
got  married." 

Mrs.  Brinton  interrupted  her,  lifting  her  head 
from  Michael's  friendly  shoulder.  "  Ellie,  don't  —  I 
can't  bear  it.  I  thought  you  adored  Dal." 

Mrs.  Dallas  raised  her  face,  tear  stained  but  lovely, 
to  Mrs.  Brinton.  "  I  do  adore  him.  That's  just 
the  trouble.  I  wouldn't  mind  if  I  didn't  adore  him. 
Oh,  Peg !  I  want  to  stay  at  home." 

Mrs.  Brinton  dried  her  eyes  briskly.  Tears  were 
a  luxury  she  did  not  often  indulge  in.  They  were 
so  ruinous  to  one's  eyes.  "  My  dear,  if  that's  all  — • 
Dallas  would  never  want  you  to  go  away  if  you  didn't 
wish  to.  Shall  I  tell  him?  " 

Mrs.  Dallas  shook  her  head  gloomily.  "  I  am 
going  to  tell  him  myself." 

Mrs.  Brinton  looked  at  her  friend  helplessly.  She 
felt  as  nearly  amazed  as  she  could  be.  "  Then  what 
else  is  the  matter?  You  are  the  most  depressing 
bride  I've  ever  seen." 

Mrs.  Dallas  returned  her  gaze  sadly.  She  realised 
that  even  Margaret  did  not  understand  her,  and  she 
longed  to  be  alone  with  Michael  and  say  the  whole 


288  YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

truth  to  him.  She  would  be  quite  honest  with  him, 
and  it  would  be  a  blessed  relief.  And  she  felt 
Margaret  would  never  let  her  say  what  she  wanted  to. 
Indeed,  she  was  sure  she  would  not  dare  to  tell  half 
she  felt  while  Mrs.  Brinton  stood  there,  a  picture  of 
graceful  womanhood  in  her  lovely  mauve  chiffon 
gown,  with  its  modish  parasol  and  smart  rose  trimmed 
hat.  Margaret  was  far  too  worldly  to  hear  a  con- 
fession of  the  sort  she  longed  to  pour  into  Michael's 
ears. 

"  Please,  Peg,"  she  said.  "  Do  go  away,  and  let 
me  talk  to  Michael.  Women  never  understand 
women  when  they  are  depressed.  My  hand-bag  isn't 
packed  —  you  do  that,  Peg."  Michael  gave  Mrs. 
Brinton  a  knowing  wink.  She  gathered  up  her 
draperies  and  parasol  gladly.  Ellie  was  not  pleasant 
company. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  stay,"  she  said.  "  I'll 
go  with  pleasure,  and  see  to  the  hand-bag."  And 
without  further  urging  she  went  into  the  house  and 
left  them  together.  Mrs.  Dallas  sat  down  and  looked 
at  Doyle,  who  drew  a  chair  close  to  her  and  sat  beside 
her. 

"  Are  ye  frightened,  Ellie?  "  he  asked. 

She  hesitated.  "I—  Oh,  I'm  not  sure  I  did 
want  to  be  married,  Irishman." 


THE  BRIDE   CONFESSES  289 

"  Aren't  ye  now  ?  "  he  said.  "  That's  the  way  with 
us  all,  once  we're  caught,  we  don't  like  it.  It's  a  bit 
hard  on  the  bridegroom,  though.  Ye  ought  to  have 
said  it  yesterday.  It's  past  due." 

Mrs.  Dallas  nodded  sadly.  "  I  know  that  very 
well,  but  I  lost  courage.  Now  that  it's  too  late,  I've 
found  it.  Somehow  I  don't  so  much  mind  telling 
you.  You're  so  human."  She  smiled  through  her 
tears. 

Doyle  laughed.  "  It's  plain  clay  I  am,  and  I  guess 
I'm  easy  to  talk  to  because  I've  done  so  many  things 
I  shouldn't.  Sinners  are  always  understanding  that's 
why  they  don't  reform  oftener." 

Mrs.  Dallas  twisted  her  handkerchief.  "  I  don't 
want  to  go  away  with  Dal,"  she  explained.  "  What's 
your  advice  ?  Shall  I  tell  him  so  —  or  shall  I  lie 
and  go?  Come,  Irishman,  advise  me." 

He  thought  a  moment.  "  I'd  lie  fast  enough  if 
it  helped  matters.  But  what's  the  man  done?  Has 
he  offended  ye, —  or  are  ye  just  changeable  or 
what  ? — Come,  my  girl,  the  reason.  Right  now,  since 
we're  talkin'  to  some  purpose  —  what's  the  real 
truth?" 

Mrs.  Dallas  looked  at  him  sorrowfully.  "  The 
real  truth  —  the  unvarnished  bitter  truth  is,  I  don't 
dare.  I'm  not  twenty-one." 


290 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  see  what  that's  got  to  do 
with  it." 

"  It's  got  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it,"  she  said 
mournfully. 

"  What,  then  ?  Ye  promised  the  truth  —  mind," 
he  urged. 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  dare  —  I'm  too  old !  "  she  fal- 
tered. 

Doyle  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  heartily. 
"  Ellie,  my  dear !  You  with  your  lovely  face  and 
pretty  smiles,  sittin'  there  and  sayin'  you're  too  old. 
Do  you  mean  it,  Ellie  ?  I  never  thought  of  ye  as  old, 
girl.  How  old  are  ye  now  ?  "  He  waited  to  hear 
smilingly. 

Mrs.  Dallas  set  her  jaw  and  faced  him.  She  would 
not  lie  any  more.  He  should  hear  the  whole  truth, 
and  she  spoke  it  grimly.  "  I'm  forty-eight.  An 
awful  confession  for  a  woman  to  make.  But  I'm 
beyond  caring  —  and  I've  seen  the  day,  not  long  ago, 
when  torture  wouldn't  have  dragged  it  from  me. 
I'm  forty-eight !  And  it's  got  to  be  faced.  To-day 
in  all  my  beautiful  clothes  and  with  my  hair  dressed 
in  the  latest  mode,  and  my  Louis  Quinze  heels,  I  am 
still  forty-eight,  and  that's  almost  fifty.  If  that 
doesn't  sound  old  enough,  just  remember  that  it's  half 


291 

a  century.  I  tell  you,  Michael,  I  don't  dare — " 
She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  overcome. 

Doyle  stared  at  her  aghast.  Her  confession  stag- 
gered him  for  a  moment,  and  before  he  realised  it  he 
gave  a  little  shudder, —  and  then  grew  very  serious. 
"  Ellie,  I  wish  ye  hadn't  said  it.  It  makes  me  shiver 
a  bit.  For  it's  Michael  Doyle  that's  getting  along 
fast  himself,  and  he's  all  alone  and  no  woman  cares 
much.  I'd  forgotten  it  the  while.  But  we're  all 
older  than  we  once  were."  He  too  leaned  back,  a 
trifle  heavily.  He  felt  all  of  a  sudden  the  weight  of 
centuries  steal  over  him. 

Mrs.  Dallas  looked  at  him  in  sincere  sympathy. 
She  realised  his  dismay ;  but  her  own  fear  quite  over- 
balanced her  pride.  "  All  of  us.  There  you  see, 
you  don't  dispute  it.  We're  all  old ;  but  I,  fool  that 
I  am,  have  convinced  poor  Dal  that  he  and  I  are 
young  lovers  and  that  the  years  have  never  been. 
And  he  believes  it.  It's  awful.  What  shall  I  do?  " 

Michael  Doyle  got  up  suddenly  and  looked  at  her 
as  she  sat  there,  her  sweet  face  drawn  and  haggard, 
her  clear  blue  eyes  misty  with  unshed  tears.  And 
all  at  once  he  felt  the  tragedy  of  it.  "  God  love  ye !  " 
he  said  solemnly.  "  It's  the  truth,  but  I  forgot  it 
when  I  looked  at  ye.  My  blood  ran  as  fast  as  a  lad's, 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

and  my  old  oxheart  pounded  it  all  out  to  ye.  I'm 
sorry  for  ye,  Ellie.  It's  damned  hard  on  a  woman 
like  you." 

He  felt  sweeping  over  him  a  wave  of  gratitude  to 
her  that  she  had  refused  him.  "  Thank  God,"  he 
said  fervently.  "  I'm  a  single  man  this  day." 

Mrs.  Dallas  acquiesced  miserably.  She  was  beyond 
humour.  "  So  that's  the  reason,  and  you  can  be 
sorry  for  me  and  for  Dal.  We're  two  miserable  souls, 
and  all  I  want  in  the  world  is  a  little  peace  and  my 
comfort  and  my  knitting  here  in  the  garden.  I'll  go 
and  tell  Peg  now,  she's  waiting  for  me."  She  got  up 
slowly  and  put  out  her  hand  to  Michael. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  ye,"  he  murmured,  "  but  God 
love  ye,  it's  a  big  shock  to  me.  Why  don't  ye  take 
a  bit  of  brandy,  Ellie?  It  might  put  heart  in  ye.'* 
Mrs.  Dallas  smiled  faintly.  It  was  so  like  Michael 
to  suggest  a  drink  for  any  sorrow  or  ailment.  It 
was  his  one  panacea  for  all  earthly  woes. 

"  Bless  your  soul,"  she  said.  "  Fm  beyond  saving, 
give  it  to  poor  Dal !  He'll  need  it." 

Then  she  went  into  the  house  and  Doyle  walked  up 
and  down,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  mind  occu- 
pied by  a  thousand  disturbing  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DEPARTING    GUESTS 

DAI/LAS  and  John  Strong  came  out  of  the  house  to- 
gether to  join  Doyle,  Dallas  still  woefully  depressed, 
but  struggling  bravely  to  overcome  it.  The  Irish- 
man turned  and  looked  at  him  sympathetically. 
Since  he  had  heard  Ellie's  confession,  he  felt  sure  he 
understood  why  Dallas  was  so  disturbed ;  but  with  his 
heart  fairly  sick  within  him,  he  was  determined  if 
possible  to  help  Dal  to  forget  it  for  the  moment,  and 
offered  his  never  varying  cure  for  everything. 

"  Come  here  the  two  of  ye,  Madame  Dallas,  the 
bride,  has  just  bidden  me  give  Dal  a  nip  of  the  crea- 
ture." 

John  Strong  shook  his  head.  "  You'd  better  not," 
he  advised.  "  He  doesn't  need  it.  I'm  sure  he's  had 
fifty.  Dal  is  nervous."  Dallas  stood  between  them, 
a  superb  picture  of  health  and  vigour.  His  gaze  fell 
on  Michael's  kindly  face,  and  he  smiled  at  him  faintly. 
"  What  man  isn't  on  his  wedding  day  ?  But  I'm 
worse  than  nervous  —  I'm  afraid,"  he  admitted. 

Strong  looked  at  Doyle.     What  was  one  to  do  with 
293 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Dallas?  He  gave  it  up.  And  he  said  a  trifle  irri- 
tably, "  You  know  there  is  nothing  about  your  present 
demeanour,  Dal,  that  would  coax  the  average  perfectly 
single  male  into  double  harness.  What  does  ail  you? 
You  were  keen  enough  on  getting  married." 

As  Dallas  stared  moodily  at  Strong  and  did  not 
answer  him,  Doyle  ventured  a  further  query.  "  What 
are  ye  afraid  of,  Dal  ?  Ye  damned  fool !  " 

Dallas  turned  and  sat  down  at  the  table.  "  A 
woman,"  he  said  shortly. 

Doyle  waved  his  hands.  "  That  I  should  live  to 
hear  ye  admit  it." 

But  Dallas  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  teased. 
"  Don't  joke,  Michael.  I'm  very  jumpy  to-day,  and 
I  wish  we  had  decided  to  honeymoon  in  Cape  May 
or  Old  Point  Comfort,  or  even  Chicago  —  anywhere 
but  on  a  boat  out  on  the  water.  It  depresses  me." 
He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  magazine.  An  ocean 
liner  stared  up  at  him  out  of  an  enticing  advertise- 
ment of  ocean  travel.  He  closed  the  book  abruptly. 
The  thought  of  the  trip  came  to  him  with  relentless 
prod.  What  a  prospect !  And  how  soon !  John 
Strong  chuckled.  "  Water  always  saddens  you, 
Dal,"  he  said.  "  When  you  drink  it." 

Just  then  Metz  appeared  carrying  a  large  tray 
of  different  drinks,  ice,  shaker,  limes,  lemons  and  the 


295 

various  paraphernalia  Michael  delighted  in.  Mrs. 
Dallas  had  remembered,  even  if  her  heart  was  ill  at 
ease,  so  strong  within  her  was  the  instinct  of  hospi- 
tality. 

Michael  greeted  this  timely  interruption  with 
much  enthusiasm.  "  Will  ye  look  now !  There's  a 
hostess  for  ye!  What's  there,  Metz?  " 

"  About  everything,  Mr.  Doyle,  sir,"  Metz  said, 
"  if  you'll  permit  me  to  mention  it,  Cook  always  says 
I  was  never  a  stingy  hand  at  a  tray.  More  than 
you  need,  I  tell  Cook, —  it's  easy  to  carry  it  back 
again,  and  then  all  tastes  can  be  studied.  Cook  says 
it's  a  fine  rule  and  praises  me  for  it,  and  praise  from 
Cook  is  rare,  sir.  Whiskey,  sir?  " 

But  Michael  moved  him  to  one  side,  and  went  over 
to  the  tray  himself.  Holding  the  shaker  in  one  hand, 
he  asked :  "  What  would  the  two  of  ye  say  to  a 
new  one,  eh?  A  young  buck  from  St.  Louis  taught 
it  to  me,  and  mark  ye,  it's  a  real  drink ! " 

Dallas  was  always  interested  in  Michael's  new 
drinks.  And  even  at  this  moment  he  felt  a  faint 
thrill  of  anticipation.  "  I  would  like  a  new  one. 
I'm  just  in  the  mood,"  he  said.  "  Has  it  a  name?  " 

"  Sure  it  has  a  name,"  Michael  said,  as  he  busied 
himself  squeezing  a  lime  neatly  and  deftly.  "  A 
most  amusin'  name.  A  Gin-daisy  he  calls  it.  And 


296          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

this  is  how  you  make  it."  He  filled  the  shaker  with 
ice  and  put  in  the  gin.  "  Ye  snow  it  first,  then  half 
one  big  lemon  and  half  one  baby  lime,  twisted  till 
they  weep,  three  little  triplets  of  Gordon,  and  a  beau- 
tiful, passionate,  feminine,  pink  jigger  of  grenadine. 
Then  a  wicked  taste  of  that  old  monk,  yellow  char- 
treuse, fizzy  water  up  to  the  shaker  top,  and  a  bit 
of  bar  twirl.  There's  your  Gin-daisy !  " 

He  poured  the  drink  out  gaily  into  three  glasses 
and  Metz  handed  it  reverently  to  them.  Michael 
had  always  been  one  of  Metz's  admirations. 

Michael  held  his  glass  up  to  Dal.  "  Here's  a  last 
toast,  Dal,"  he  said.  "  Come,  Jack !  Here's  to  the 
one  woman  whether  she's  yours  or  mine."  They  all 
drank  it.  John  Strong  gave  his  expert  opinion. 
"  It's  a  wonder,  Michael.  A  life  saver." 

Dallas  laughed.  "  A  poem,  you  mean.  Michael's 
drinks  are  all  poems.  He's  missed  his  vocation." 
He  drained  his  glass. 

Doyle  tasted  the  new  drink  critically ;  new  drinks 
were  always  an  experiment.  "  Ain't  it  funny  now, 
but  I  can't  keep  my  hands  off  the  makin's  of  a  drink. 
Metz  here  knows  that.  I've  taught  him  dozens,"  he 
said  in  explanation. 

Metz  coughed  discreetly.  "  If  you'll  pardon  the 
liberty,  sir,"  he  ventured.  "  I  made  a  mental  note 


DEPARTING  GUESTS  297 

of  the  Gin-daisy.  Cook  always  asks  me  if  Mr. 
Doyle  has  taught  me  any  new  beverages.  Cook  will 
be  pleased  to  hear  of  this  one.  Anything  else  Mr. 
Dallas,  sir?" 

Dallas  took  out  his  watch.  "  I  ordered  the  motor 
at  six,  and  it's  just  that  now.  You'll  see  to  the  bags, 
Metz." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  and  Metz  went  on  into  the 
house.  Mrs.  Dallas  and  Mrs.  Brinton  passed  him 
in  the  doorway  coming  out  to  the  garden.  Mrs. 
Brinton  had  on  her  automobile  wrap  and  was  ready 
to  start. 

"  The  motor  is  here,"  she  said.  "  I'm  afraid  it's 
good-bye." 

Strong  went  over  to  her.  "  I  always  hate  saying 
good-bye,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Dallas,  her  voice  tremulous,  embraced  him 
nervously.  Then  she  kissed  Mrs.  Brinton  with  des- 
peration. "  Don't  say  it,"  she  begged.  "  Dear, 
good  friends  that  you  are.  Just  run  away  without 
it.  I  can't  see  you  off.  I  should  disgrace  myself 
weeping.  Dal  and  I  will  stay  out  here  until  you're 
gone.  Then  it  won't  be  quite  so  dreadful." 

Dallas  took  Michael  by  one  hand,  while  John 
Strong  shook  his  free  arm  vigorously.  "  Write  us," 
Strong  urged  for  want  of  a  better  remark. 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

"  We  will,  we  will,"  Dallas  assured  him. 

But  even  at  this  moment  Doyle's  ruling  passion 
found  vent.  "  For  the  love  of  heaven,  Dal,  when 
you're  in  South  America  learn  how  to  make  the 
national  drink.  They  call  it  a  green  swizzle;  it's  a 
beautiful  colour,  and  I'm  dyin'  to  make  one."  They 
all  laughed.  Dallas  turned  to  Mrs.  Brinton,  who 
embraced  him  sadly. 

Doyle  shook  his  head,  his  eyes  blinking  to  keep 
back  the  tears.  "  Here's  three  miserable  devils,"  he 
murmured.  "  I'm  cryin'  for  what  I've  lost,  and  Dal 
for  what  he's  won." 

"  Go,  before  I  cry,"  Mrs.  Dallas  begged,  throw- 
ing kisses  at  them.  "  Oh,  Peg,  dear,  good-bye !  " 

Mrs.  Brinton  embraced  her  with  emotion.  "  Wire 
me,"  she  faltered.  "  I'll  be  so  nervous.'* 

Then  she  and  John  Strong  went  out  to  the  wait- 
ing motor  but  Doyle  lingered  a  moment  longer,  sick 
at  heart.  He  knew  they  were  both  wretchedly 
unhappy  and  nervous.  He  went  back  and  stood 
between  them. 

"  God  bless  ye  both,"  he  said.  "  And  I  say  it 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  for  I  cared  more  for 
her  than  you'll  ever  know." 

"  Michael,  Michael !  "  she  cried  miserably.     Dallas 


299 

grasped  his  hand.     Then  John  Strong  called,  and 
Doyle  left  them. 

The  setting  sun  sent  long  rays  over  the  garden 
and  little  shadows  crept  in  among  the  flowers.  In 
the  houses  back  of  the  garden  wall  the  lights  were 
beginning  to  appear,  one  by  one.  The  wind  caught 
the  breath  of  the  roses,  which  grew  all  about  the 
doorway,  and  sent  it  faintly  towards  them.  It  was 
very  still  and  peaceful.  The  evening  was  perfect 
and  the  spot  a  wonderful  one  for  two  married  lovers 
to  find  themselves.  But  they  stood  dumbly  looking 
at  each  other  —  afraid. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE    BEAL   WOMAN 

BEOOKLINE  at  that  quiet  vesper  hour  might  have 
been  another  Eden,  but  even  a  child  could  have  seen 
that  in  the  Howard  garden  two  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  apparent  paradise  had  bitten  deeply  into  some 
apple  of  bitter  experience. 

Some  minutes  already  had  passed  since  Doyle's 
light  foot  had  bounded  over  the  boards  of  the  porch 
and  hall  as  he  hurried  out  to  the  motor.  Dallas  and 
his  bride  had  listened  fearfully  as  the  engine  was 
cranked ;  they  heard  a  few  words  of  direction  in 
Doyle's  crisp  tongue,  then  the  noisy  clutch  took  hold 
and  the  engine  groaned  into  its  work,  the  sound 
dropping  into  a  rapidly  lessening  drone  as  the  car 
moved  along  the  drive  and  into  the  street.  And  when 
the  last  sound  had  been  lost  in  the  twittering  of  the 
evening  choir  of  Brookline  birds  the  pair  in  the  gar- 
den had  turned  fearfully  to  each  other  quite  as  if 
they  had  just  been  marooned  far  at  sea  on  a  desert 
island.  Yet  they  were  still  silent. 

Neither  seemed  ready  to  face  a  situation  which 
300 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  301 

had  been  coming  closer  and  closer  all  of  the  day. 
Dallas  looked  about  him  almost  as  if  he  felt  the 
necessity  of  escape  from  something  nameless  and 
formless,  something  which  he  could  not  see,  but  never- 
theless impending  fearfully. 

Mrs.  Dallas  stood  tensely,  her  fingers  clasped 
tightly  in  front  of  her  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  hus- 
band. There  was  in  her  face  such  a  look  of  fear 
that  he  quite  forgot  his  own  disquietude,  and  went 
over  to  her  and  put  his  arm  around  her  tenderly. 
At  his  touch  her  body  relaxed,  and  she  leaned  against 
him  silently.  The  mere  physical  nearness  of  him 
somehow  always  brought  her  heart  a  peaceful  com- 
fort 

He  looked  down  into  her  white  face  inquiringly. 
"  What's  the  trouble,  Ellie?  "  he  asked.  "  What  is 
it,  dear?  I  know  you  so  well  that  I  have  felt  intu- 
itively all  day  —  your  unhappiness.  Are  you  sorry 
you  said  yes  to  me,  Ellie?  " 

She  shook  her  head  and  tried  to  answer  cheerfully. 
"  Why,  Dal,  of  course  not.  But,"  she  hesitated, 
"  I'm  awfully  tired,  aren't  you  ?  I  suppose  I've  let 
down  now  that  it's  all  over.  And  besides  that  I  am 
bothered.  Anna's  leaving  has  upset  me." 

Dallas  put  a  gentle  hand  under  her  chin  and  turned 
her  face  up  to  meet  his.  Her  eyes  dropped,  she  felt 


302          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

cold  and  sick  In  anticipation.  He  had  never  seemed 
dearer.  How  could  she  tell  him? 

"  My  dear,  that's  not  it.  You  can  get  a  maid 
any  time,"  he  told  her. 

Mrs.  Dallas  evaded  it  nervously.  "  Yes,  but  Anna 
understood  me,"  she  said.  "  And  it's  such  a  long 
journey,  and  one  must  be  comfortable  on  such  a  long, 
long  trip.  One's  clothes  and  hair,  and,  er  —  oh  — 
I  hate  having  a  strange  person  —  and,  oh,  dear  — " 

Dallas  put  his  cheek  against  hers  lovingly. 
"  Dearest,"  he  begged,  "  tell  me.  Come,  Ellie,  what 
is  really  the  matter?  What  is  it,  darling?  Why, 
you're  trembling!  Ellie!" 

Mrs.  Dallas  put  her  agitated  hands  on  his  broad 
shoulders  and  pushed  him  away  gently.  "  I  must 
think  —  I  — "  She  was  pitifully  unnerved  and  he 
grew  more  gentle  with  her. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  tell  me,  darling?  Surely  you 
are  not.  I  always  understood,  you  know  that. 
Don't  be  afraid." 

Mrs.  Dallas  smiled  a  weak  little  smile,  as  her  eyes 
met  his,  so  full  of  the  tenderness  and  sincerity  she 
loved.  "  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  I  am  just  afraid  of 
myself." 

"  Perhaps  it's  only  a  little  imaginary  trouble  that 
I  can  kiss  away,"  he  said.  "  But  if  it's  a  real  one  — 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  303 

don't  deny  me  of  my  share  of  it,  for  now  I'm  the 
other  half  of  you." 

He  realised  that  whatever  troubled  her  was  no 
slight  matter.  He  had  never  seen  her  so  overcome 
and  it  moved  him  strangely. 

"  You  know,  sweetheart,"  he  began  with  great 
sympathy  in  his  voice,  "  we  mustn't  begin  our  life 
together  like  this,  Ellie  —  something  between  us. 
Why  do  you  hang  your  head?  Why  don't  you  look 
at  me?  What  is  it?  Come,  come,  dearie,"  he 
added  tenderly,  after  a  pause,  "  tell  me.  And  then 
we'll  laugh."  His  voice  was  full  of  feeling.  He 
drew  her  towards  him  again  —  "  and  be  happier  — 
happier  than  ever,  my  wife." 

She  endured  his  embrace  passively.  She  stood 
looking  at  him,  not  knowing  how  to  begin  or  what 
to  say.  The  moment  was  tense.  He  waited  pa- 
tiently and  she  finally  plunged  into  her  confession. 

"  Dal,  since  you  first  met  me  I've  hardly  drawn 
one  natural  breath,"  she  began.  He  started  to  inter- 
rupt her  but  she  put  out  her  hand. 

"  Wait !  "  she  commanded.  "  Be  patient  and  I'll 
tell  you,  for  it's  got  to  come  out.  I  never  could 
keep  this  up." 

Dallas  looked  at  her  bewilderedly.  "  My  God, 
Ellie!"  he  said.  "Keep  what  up?"  He  stood 


304          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

dumbly  sensing  her  distress,  but  not  knowing  how 
to  help  her. 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  began  anew.  "  I 
hardly  know  where  to  start  or  how  to  say  what  I 
feel  you  must  know.  I've  done  everything  we 
women  know  how  to  do  to  make  you  care  for  me.  I 
have  lied  and  cheated.  And  all  because  I  wanted 
you.  Because  I  could  not  be  sure  it  was  just  me, 
the  woman  soul  in  me  that  held  you,  or  the  pretty 
husk  outside.  I  didn't  dare  be  honest,  Dal.  There 
you  have  it!  That's  it!  I  didn't  dare  be  honest 
with  you,  for  fear  I  might  lose  you  —  and  that 
would  have  broken  my  heart." 

He  held  his  arms  out  to  her  entreatingly,  for  the 
look  in  her  eyes  was  crushing  him.  He  almost  felt 
that  he  could  not  listen  to  her,  she  was  so  merciless 
in  this  baring  of  her  soul. 

"  Ellie,"  he  murmured  incoherently,  but  she  went 
on.  Now  that  she  had  found  courage  she  poured  out 
the  hundred  thoughts  that  she  had  kept  hidden  in 
her  heart  so  long,  and  words  poured  in  torrents 
from  her,  words  that  were  ominous  with  meaning. 

"  After  it  was  all  over,"  she  continued,  "  and  you 
said  you  loved  me,  I  felt  I  had  the  strength  to  lift 
mountains.  If  I  were  only  sure  of  you!  And  so  I 
have  gone  on  madly,  blindly  and  always  refusing  to 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  305 

hear  the  ominous  knocking  at  my  heart.  To-day, 
after  we  were  married,  the  whole  frail,  pretty,  false 
structure  fell  about  me,  and  I  stood  crushed  in  its 
ruins.  It  was  the  end!  I  am  a  wicked,  wretched 
woman,  J>al.  It  can't  be,  dear.  It  must  all  stop 
here.  Before  we  have  really  started,  and  I  have 
tried  all  day  to  find  strength  to  tell  you  so."  She 
paused,  her  voice  choking  with  sobs. 

Dallas  took  a  step  nearer  to  her.  "  But  still,  you 
haven't  told  me,"  he  said.  "  What's  the  matter  ? 
Your  soul  is  beating  and  fluttering  to  come  to  me, 
and  you  hold  it  back.  What  have  I  done,  or  you 
or  anyone  to  so  change  the  world?  I  know  you  love 
me  —  and  God  knows  I  love  you.  Then  what  is 
there  to  fear?  We  shall  only  know  each  other  bet- 
ter, Ellie,  and  I  shall  see  your  real  self  always  instead 
of  sometimes.  Why  do  you  call  yourself  dishonest 
and  a  coward?  You  are  only  nervous,  dear.  When 
we  are  alone  together,  and  we  can  throw  aside  all 
the  shams  and  make-believe,  we — " 

Mrs.  Dallas  came  over  to  him  and  threw  her  arms 
outstretched  in  utter  despair.  "  There  you  have 
said  it,"  she  answered  vehemently.  "  When  we  can 
throw  aside  all  the  shams !  Don't  you  see  that  I 
can't  bear  to  have  you  know  all  of  a  sudden  what  a 
weak  creature  I  am?  I  thank  you  for  giving  me 


306          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

a  word  to  tell  it  in.  Sham!  That's  it.  I'm  a 
cheat!  You  don't  even  know  my  real  self!  You 
didn't  marry  it !  " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  suddenly.  He  was  terribly 
moved.  He  could  not  believe  his  ears  as  he  listened. 
But,  manlike,  he  felt  she  needed  him  closer  to  her 
if  her  soul  was  so  troubled.  He  held  her  tightly  as 
he  answered  her.  "  Nonsense,  Ellie !  I  married 
you,  and  you  are  a  hundred  women  rolled  into  one. 
Perhaps  that  was  why  my  rather  weary  heart 
learned  a  new  beat  for  you.  I  didn't  expect  you  to 
know  it  in  an  instant.  We're  going  on  a  new  road, 
and  the  mere  finding  it  with  you,  seemed  so  fasci- 
nating that  I  love  to  think  it  may  take  a  long,  long 
time.  We  aren't  children  to  learn  by  simple  alpha- 
bets. There  are  but  two  letters  in  our  primer:  I 
and  you.  And  that  you  doubt  or  fear  or  shrink 
from  it  all,  is  not  strange  to  me;  for  you  have  lived 
alone  so  long  that  even  with  all  my  love,  I  come  as  a 
stranger,  whom  you  must  make  welcome  and  trust 
before  you  half  know  him.  But  I  am  only  a  beggar, 
Ellie,  at  your  threshold  with  outstretched  hands 
waiting  for  what  you  may  give  —  and  patient  even 
if  I  must  wait  longer  than  most  beggars,  for  I  bring 
so  little  and  I  have  dared  to  ask  so  much.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  me,  Ellie.  I  am  more  humble  than  I 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  307 

have  ever  been  before,  and  my  heart  has  its  own 
misgivings  when  I  realise  that  you  have  been  given 
into  my  keeping.  God  bless  you !  " 

They  stood  clasped  in  each  other's  arms  vainly 
striving  to  find  in  that  very  closeness  some  comfort 
for  themselves. 

Finally  she  spoke  again.  "  It's  not  so  much  your 
knowing  all  of  a  sudden  that  I  am  not  beautiful  or 
fresh  or  ardent  that  I  mind  so  much  —  it's  —  it's  — " 
She  drew  away  from  him  and  faced  him,  trembling 
with  emotion.  He  listened,  his  heart  aching  for  her, 
but  now  that  she  had  made  it  clear  to  him  what  wor- 
ried her  he  knew  she  must  finish  it,  and  he  did  not 
interrupt  her. 

"  It's  not  my  looking  different  even,"  she  said, 
"  because  you  must  have  realised  that  was  bound  to 
come,  but  it  is  that  awful  inside  knowing  that  I  can't 
give  what  I  promised,  that  —  you  want  what  I 
haven't  got.  You  think  that  I  am  full  of  warmth 
and  life,  and  that  I  shall  pulsate  to  each  touch  and 
kiss.  That's  one  of  the  lies  I've  acted  so  well.  At 
first  it  was  true,  and  I  was  on  fire  if  your  hand  met 
mine.  But  I  couldn't  make  it  last,  Dal.  It  went 
away  from  me.  That's  the  ghastly,  awful  part  of 
it.  It  wouldn't  stay,  and  all  this  journey  and  honey- 
moon seem  so  unreal  to  me  —  and  such  an  awful 


SOS          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

undertaking.  My  heart  won't  throb  over  things  any 
longer,  and  I'm  awfully  tired."  She  made  a  pathetic 
little  gesture  of  despair.  "  I'm  tired  to  death,  Dal, 
and  afraid.  I  want  so  to  be  quiet  —  to  be  alone, 
not  to  feel  that  something  is  demanded  of  me  that  I 
can't  give.  I've  got  to  have  comfortable  clothes 
and  easy  shoes  —  and  just  my  own  hair.  There's 
no  use,  I  know  it  now!  I  want  to  wash  my  face 
clean  with  soap  and  slap  plain  eau  de  cologne  on  it, 
and  put  my  clothes  away  in  old-fashioned  lavender. 
There  isn't  one  inch  of  my  corseted,  painted,  false 
self  that  isn't  clamouring  to  be  free.  My  body  has 
revolted  and  my  soul  has  sickened.  I  can't  keep  it 
up,  Dal.  I've  got  to  stop,  stop  and  be  absolutely 
myself,  and  you've  never  seen  me  like  that  —  a  quiet, 
gentle,  pretty-faced  woman  over  middle  age,  with 
no  style  and  no  charm.  I  lived  with  her  for  years 
and  I  know  her  well.  She  was  at  least  a  gentle- 
woman. I  am  a  cheat ! " 

Mrs.  Dallas  brought  out  this  last  statement  with 
a  violence  which  gave  it  a  fearful  strength  of  bitter 
truth.  It  was  one  of  those  cataclysmic  utterances 
which  rend  a  personality,  leaving  it  something  else 
than  it  was  before. 

She  was  quite  overcome  by  the  violence  of  this 
personal  reaction.  She  wavered  for  a  second,  as  if 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  309 

she  had  reached  the  limit  of  expression.  Quite 
startled  he  reached  for  her  and  held  her  a  second. 
But  she  worried  out  of  his  arms,  feeling  an  instinc- 
tive need  for  air  and  freedom.  She  lacked  the 
power  to  get  through  with  what  was  still  to  come. 
She  fought  desperately  to  regain  control  of  her 
fluttering  consciousness.  Her  mind  for  the  moment 
would  no  longer  concentrate.  Each  familiar  sound 
drove  it  farther  away.  She  had  become  for  the  mo- 
ment a  rudderless  bark  on  an  emotional  sea,  each  new 
breeze  sweeping  her  in  another  direction. 

A  bell  she  had  known  nearly  all  her  life  sono- 
rously struck  the  hour  of  7  o'clock  in  a  nearby  church 
tower,  the  voices  of  oriole  and  robin,  speeding  the 
wonderful  June  day,  came  to  her  with  over-powering 
reminiscences  of  happy  and  peaceful  evenings  in  this 
same  spot.  Suddenly  it  all  fell  away  from  her;  the 
agony  for  a  moment  ceased.  She  found  Dal  again 
and  steadied  herself.  "  The  fearful  part  of  it  is," 
she  resumed  when  she  had  controlled  herself,  "  you 
are  real."  She  went  over  to  him  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  chest  as  if  to  show  him  how  live  and  well  he 
looked  to  her.  She  ran  her  fingers  down  his  arm 
lovingly  and  nodded  vehemently  at  him. 

"  Men  are  like  that,"  she  continued.  "  If  they 
look  young,  they  feel  so.  They  don't  know  the  little 


610          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

deceptions,  the  tricks,  the  illusions,  we  women  stoop 
to.  Perhaps  you  may  feel  a  twinge  now  and  then 
just  to  remind  you  that  muscles  don't  stay  hard  for- 
ever, or  you  may  have  more  grey  hairs,  or  lines,  or 
an  extra  pound  or  two,  but  your  skin  and  hair  and 
splendid  body  are  real.  There  isn't  one  lie  about 
them." 

The  pain  in  her  face  tore  his  heart.  He  felt  he 
must  stop  her.  He  protested  desperately.  "  Ellie, 
I  beg  of  you !  Please  don't,  dear !  " 

But  she  would  not  be  silenced.  She  had  come  to 
the  breaking  point,  and  she  could  not  keep  back 
anything.  "  A  man  of  fifty  and  a  woman  of  fifty 
are  a  hundred  miles  apart.  I'm  old,  Dal  —  old,  I 
tell  you,  and  why  should  I  think  I  could  hide  it  from 
you  or  anyone  else  ?  " 

"  Ellie!     I  can't  bear  it!  "  he  cried. 

"  I  am !  "  she  cried  relentlessly.  "  There  isn't  a 
muscle  in  my  body  that  doesn't  sag,  there  isn't  a 
curve  that  isn't  going.  I  don't  see  as  well  as  I  used 
to.  I  hate  to  say  it,  but  it's  true.  I  am  short- 
breathed.  And  I  am  always  tired  and  stiff  when 
the  day  is  over.  And  hear  it  all,  Dal.  Let  us  be 
merciless.  I'm  not  what  I  made  you  believe  I  was." 
She  faltered.  "  The  passion  left  in  me  is  only  a 
poor  little  fire  now.  It's  not  my  fault.  It's  — " 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  311 

she  hesitated.  "  Oh,  Dal,  you  know  what  I 
mean.  I  can't  pretend  any  longer.  My  skin  is  still 
smooth  and  my  teeth  are  my  own,  I  can  boast  enough 
greyish  hair,  uncurled  and  unwaved,  to  twist  about 
my  head,  but  when  I  wash  off  all  this  fine,  sweet- 
smelling,  French  powder,  and  delicate  bloom,  the 
little  shadows  around  my  eyes,  the  touch  of  red  on 
ears  and  chin,  the  little  dark  pencil  marks  on  my 
brows,  the  colour  on  my  lips,  the  brilliantine  from 
my  false  hair,  put  off  these  long  hard  corsets  and 
these  torturing  slippers  —  then  I  won't  be  any 
longer  the  woman  you  care  for,  whom  you  say  allures 
and  maddens  you.  For  I  shall  wash  away  all  the 
little  allurements  you  love.  They  must  all  go  with 
the  paint  and  powders,  dear,  for  I  can't  keep  them 
up.  They  wear  me  out.  I  fear  each  hour  that  I 
will  forget  one,'  that  I'll  fail  to  attract  you,  that  I 
may  dare  to  be  myself.  It  was  just  an  insane  desire 
to  be  thought  young  again.  And  now  — "  She 
sobbed  in  a  choked  way  and  leaned  against  him, 
utterly  spent  with  emotion. 

He  comforted  her  gently.  "  Don't  —  sh  —  sh  — 
don't  cry,  my  sweetheart.  Don't  you  know  it 
hurts  me  even  more  than  it  does  you,  for  I  have 
tried  so  hard  to  believe  it  would  all  last  forever. 
Why  need  you  say  it  to-day  of  all  days?  Could 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

we  not  have  gone  on  a  little  while  longer?  "  he  mur- 
mured. 

She  sat  down  weakly,  looking  up  at  him.  "  That's 
the  bitterest  part  of  it,"  she  continued.  "  It  has  to 
hurt  you,  too.  And  you  have  been  such  a  wonderful 
lover,  a  lover  to  satisfy  even  the  woman  I  seemed  to 
be.  Youth  seems  to  dwell  with  you.  You  are  won- 
derful, Dal,  wonderful !  And  I'm  afraid  —  I'm 
afVaid  —  for  I  am  cold,  and  grey  and  it's  twilight. 
It  breaks  my  heart,  Dal.  I  wanted  so  to  be  young 
a  little  longer,  to  live  a  little,  to  love,  to  dream.  I 
shut  my  eyes  and  ears  to  the  truth,  but  all  of  a 
sudden  I  knew.  I  had  to  see.  I'm  old!  old!  old! 
Oh,  the  tragedy  of  it  all.  No  more  passion,  dear, 
no  more  heart  beats,  no  more  tightening  arms  and 
eager  kisses,  it's  over,  it's  done.  Good-bye  to  it ! 
There's  just  memory  now.  And  I  won't  be  the  first 
woman  whose  heart  has  only  memories  to  feed  on. 
I'm  old  and  it's  over.  But  oh,  Dal,  I  wanted  so  to 
be  young  and  be  loved  —  by  you !  "  She  sank  ex- 
hausted on  the  reclining  chair,  the  tears  flooding  her 
eyes. 

Dallas  went  over  and  knelt  beside  her.  He  stroked 
her  hair  away  from  her  tear  stained  face,  and  patted 
her  shoulder  soothingly.  And  when  he  could  trust 
himself  to  speak  he  said:  "You  are  the  bravest 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  313 

woman  I  have  ever  known.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me?  Do  you  think  you  are  the  only  one  who  has 
feared  and  struggled?  I  have  tried  not  to  think 
of  it,  but  I  have  known  many  weeks  that  we  were 
going  too  fast  and  that  we  would  have  to  stop  and 
go  back.  Do  you  think  you  are  growing  old  alone, 
and  that  we  all  stand  still?  " 

She  looked  down  at  him  wistfully.  He  had  never 
seemed  younger  or  more  virile.  In  the  soft  twilight 
even  the  tiny  lines  on  his  face  were  hidden.  The 
grey  in  his  hair  was  in  the  shadow,  and  his  eyes, 
clear  and  eager  burned  into  hers.  She  put  her 
hands  each  side  of  his  face  and  looked  at  him  hun- 
grily. He  should  never  know  what  this  hour  had 
cost  her.  She  had  crucified  her  pride  to  be  fair  to 
him,  and  it  had  left  scars  that  she  knew  would  never 
heal.  But  the  thought  of  his  facing  the  inevitable 
truth  that  she  had  met  and  battled  for  so  long,  filled 
her  with  a  grief  that  again  overcame  her.  She  felt 
she  would  gladly  go  through  it  all  again,  if  only  she 
might  spare  him  the  anguish  of  it. 

"  Don't,  Dal !  "  she  cried.  "  I  can't  bear  seeing 
you  wake  up  to  it.  I  can't.  I  want  to  be  away  off 
by  myself  when  you  first  realise  that  you  too  are 
old—" 

He  put  his  arms  about  her  as  he  said,  "  Time 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

deals  with  us  alike,  dearie,  and  I  am  afraid  before 
many  weeks  I  should  have  had  to  say  what  you  are 
brave  enough  to  confess  first.  I  too  am  old." 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested.     "  Don't,  dear  !  " 

He  rose  and  helped  her,  for  she  seemed  suddenly 
to  need  infinite  care  and  protection.  They  stood 
together,  he  with  his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

He  smiled  at  her  happily.  The  invisible  barrier 
that  had  kept  them  apart  all  day  had  faded  away 
with  the  setting  sun.  His  heart  was  lighter  than  it 
had  been  in  weeks,  and  instead  of  despair,  a  deep 
thankfulness  filled  his  mind.  They  had  seemed  an 
hour  before  to  be  at  the  parting  of  the  ways ;  but 
he  felt  solid  ground  again  beneath  his  feet.  He 
need  pretend  no  longer. 

"  Yes,  Ellie,  I  too,"  he  said  peacefully.  "  I  too 
cannot  pretend  any  longer.  Do  I  seem  a  young, 
passionate  lover?  I  cannot  keep  it  up,  dear.  I 
haven't  paints  and  powders,  Ellie,  but  I  have  rheu- 
matism and  a  great  inclination  to  doze  after  dinner. 
I  puff  when  I  go  upstairs,  and  I  pant  when  I  come 
down.  And  I  am  very  fussy.  I  hate  to  admit  it, 
for  it's  a  damnable  fact.  I  am  very  fussy.  If  any- 
body moves  a  brush  or  comb  of  mine  it  disturbs  me 
greatly,  and  my  shoes  must  all  stand  at  the  same 
line  on  the  shelf.  You  old  —  why,  Ellie,  I've 


THE  REAL  WOMAN  315 

crossed  the  half  hundred  mark,  two-thirds  through 
this  game  of  life,  and  I  was  afraid  I  couldn't  keep 
up  with  you.  Frightened  to  death,  dearie,  and  won- 
dering how  I  could  tell  you.  It's  funny,  if  it 
wasn't  so  tragic,  both  of  us  eating  our  hearts  out 
apart,  and  both  of  us  with  the  same  fear." 

She  stroked  his  hair,  her  mouth  quivering.  "  Not 
you,  Dal.  I  can't  bear  it  to  have  you  old.  Aren't 
you  afraid  you  will  want  a  younger  wife?  A  wife 
who  isn't  a  past,  Dal?  Good-bye,  dear,  I  am  going 
into  the  house  now  and  take  off  all  the  sham  and  be 
comfortable.  When  I  come  back  perhaps  you  won't 
even  know  me." 

"  You  dear  Ellie,"  he  said,  as  he  put  his  cheek  on 
hers.  "  I  am  going  to  be  comfortable,  too.  And' 
it  will  be  such  a  relief.  I  have  sat  out  here  many 
an  evening  and  sneezed  silently,  because  the  night 
air  made  me  chilly;  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  put  on 
my  little  cap  for  fear  you  would  laugh  at  me." 

Her  eyes  filled  up  again.  "  Oh,  Dal,"  she  wailed, 
"  if  only  you'd  still  love  me  un-made  up.  It  would 
be  so  wonderful.  But  I  don't  deserve  it.  I've  been 
too  wicked.  God  wouldn't  let  you." 

With  great  tenderness  he  bent  over  her.  "  Kiss 
me,  Ellie.  Just  a  quiet  kiss,  dear.  And  remember, 
we  must  be  brave." 


316          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

They  clung  to  each  other  and  kissed  sadly  and 
lingeringly.  Then  Mrs.  Dallas  drew  away  from  him. 
"  I'm  going,  Dal  —  forever.  I'll  never  come  back 
again,  this  Ellie.  It's  been  beautiful,  but  it  came 
twenty  years  too  late.  Good-bye,  dear." 

And  she  went  slowly  past  him  up  the  steps  into 
the  house,  leaving  behind  her  in  the  dim  old  garden 
the  bitterest  hour  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

OLD    LACE    AND    LA VENDEE 

IT  seemed  to  Mrs.  Dallas  that  she  had  gone  through 
miles  of  space  in  the  few  moments  after  leaving  her 
husband  in  the  June  twilight.  He  was  looking  after 
her  as  she  turned  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  Another 
eternity  was  occupied  in  walking  through  her  hall- 
way and  up  the  old-fashioned  flight  of  stairs. 

She  opened  the  door  of  her  bedroom  with  numb 
and  nerveless  fingers,  and  entered.  Lucy,  Mrs. 
Brinton's  maid,  had  put  it  in  order  before  she  left 
for  New  York.  There  was  laid  across  the  couch  at 
the  foot  of  Mrs.  Dallas'  bed  a  marvellous  and  flimsy 
garment  which  Celeste  had  dignified  by  the  name  of 
dressing  gown.  Near  it  was  a  tiny  pair  of  blue 
satin  mules  with  saucy  rosebuds  on  their  pointed 
toes,  and  close  by  a  bewildering  bit  of  lace  and  rib- 
bon which  was  supposed  to  be  a  boudoir  cap. 

Mrs.  Dallas  sat  down  heavily  in  a  low  rocking 
chair,  one  of  her  favourites  of  old,  and  gazed 
vacantly  about  her.  The  world  in  which  she  had 

danced  and  played  and  laughed  for  so  many  weeks 

317 


318          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

had  crumbled  beneath  her  feet,  leaving  her  dull  and 
drab  again.  She  felt  dumbly  that  the  catastrophe 
she  had  dreaded  so  long  had  come  and  gone  before 
she  even  realised  it.  The  horror  and  fear  with  which 
she  had  anticipated  it  seemed  far  away  and  shadowy. 
Her  eyes  travelled  about  the  familiar  outline  of  her 
room,  and  came  back  to  the  absurdly  fragile  piece 
of  covering  that  Lucy  had  put  out  for  her.  She 
rose  and  took  it  in  her  hands  and  regarded  it 
stolidly.  It  was  as  unreal  to  her  as  if  she  had 
never  ordered  it  or  tried  it  on,  and  she  did  not  even 
stop  to  remember  that  she  had  worn  many  others 
quite  as  youthful  and  gossamer-like. 

She  moved  to  her  mirror,  lighted  the  two  old-fash- 
ioned gas  globes  on  each  side  of  her  dressing  table 
and  looked  earnestly  at  the  reflected  face.  It  was 
tear-stained  and  weary  but  otherwise  quite  attrac- 
tive and  her  false,  blonde  hair  rippled  softly  across 
her  brow  with  an  alluring  naturalness.  With  a  ruth- 
less hand  she  unpinned  the  wave  that  covered  her  fore- 
head and  dropped  it  on  the  tray  that  held  her  hair 
pins.  Again  her  own  soft,  greyish  hair  looked  out  at 
her  like  an  old  friend  whom  she  had  not  seen  for 
many  a  long  day.  The  puffs  and  curls  and  the 
heavy  coil  of  blonde  hair  were  pulled  off  and  thrown 
down  with  the  wave.  Then  she  brushed  and  combed 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       319 

her  own  pretty  hair,  parted  it  in  the  centre  and 
twisted  it  on  her  neck  as  she  had  worn  it  for  many 
years  before  she  converted  herself  into  a  fashion 
plate.  She  took  her  little  pot  of  cold  cream  and 
rubbed  it  over  her  face.  As  she  wiped  it  off  quickly 
the  blush  tint  on  cheeks  and  ears  went  and  with  it 
the  crimson  lip  salve  which  had  turned  her  lips  into 
scarlet  wonders.  The  colour  made  two  defiant 
streaks  upon  her  handkerchief.  She  lifted  her 
powder  puff  and  dusted  it  lightly  over  her  face. 
Then  she  leaned  forward  and  studied  the  result 
relentlessly.  She  was  ten  years  older;  but  had  lost 
not  a  bit  of  her  sweet  and  womanly  charm.  She 
looked  longingly  at  her  rouge  box  and  then  picked 
it  up  between  her  forefinger  and  thumb  and  dropped 
it  into  her  waste-paper  basket.  It  would  not  be  a 
temptation  again!  She  regarded  her  beautiful  lace 
gown  ruefully.  It  had  countless  little  hooks  and 
eyes,  and  it  was  a  difficult  dress  to  get  in  or  out  of 
alone,  for  the  slightest  pull  would  tear  it.  But  a 
smile  of  rather  grim  humour  flitted  across  her  face. 
Why  not  tear  it?  She  never  expected  to  wear  it 
or  its  like  again.  So  with  rapid,  nervous  fingers  she 
ripped  it  open  and  stepped  out  of  it.  Then  she 
kicked  off  the  slippers  that  had  hurt  her  feet  all 
day  and  looked  at  them  with  a  malice  in  her  eye. 


320          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Aiming  her  foot  carefully  she  sent  each  dainty 
slipper  flying  under  her  bed  swiftly.  Shoeless,  and 
dressed  in  her  lacy,  beribboned  underwear,  she 
opened  her  closet  door  and  gazed  into  it.  Her 
trousseau  gowns  were  in  trunks  and  boxes,  packed 
for  the  journey,  and  only  her  smart,  mauve,  travel- 
ling gown  was  left  out,  for  her  to  put  on  in  the 
morning.  It  dangled  innocently  from  a  padded 
clothes  hanger  as  if  it  were  the  meekest  garment  in 
the  closet,  but  Mrs.  Dallas  knew  better.  She  remem- 
bered vividly  the  torturing  narrowness  of  its  skirt  and 
weighted  hem ;  its  perky,  j  aunty  j  acket  with  the 
long,  tight  sleeves  and  its  V  shaped  neck.  And 
before  her  mind  flitted  the  scandalous  thinness  of  the 
lace  blouse  with  its  waist  band  inches  too  small  and 
a  bustline  out  of  all  reason.  She  knew  also  just 
where  she  could  find  a  pair  of  high  heeled,  narrow, 
buckled,  patent  leather  torments  called  "  pumps " 
to  wear  with  the  costume.  Her  eye  lighted  upon  a 
hat  box  wherein  rested  a  high,  heavy,  cocky  hat, 
with  a  beautiful  spray  of  purple  wistaria  which  was 
to  have  aroused  Dallas'  admiration  on  the  journey. 
She  stepped  past  them  all  into  the  depths  of  her 
roomy  closet.  Gown  after  gown  of  quiet  pastel 
colour  hung  in  rows,  and  from  them  came  the  faint 
fragrance  of  delicate  old-fashioned  lavender,  the 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       321 

only  perfume  beside  plain  eau  de  cologne  that  she 
had  permitted  herself  before  she  was  led  astray  by 
Mrs.  Brinton's  heliotrope. 

How  long  it  was  since  she  had  seen  one  of  her 
dresses !  She  had  almost  forgotten  them  or  where 
they  hung;  but  she  was  faintly  amused  at  their 
orderliness,  for  Anna  had  believed  in  artistic  con- 
fusion. She  remembered  her  favourite  and  newest 
dress  of  the  period  preceding  her  rebellion  and  she 
reached  up  and  took  it  down  from  its  hook.  It  was 
a  soft,  greyish-blue,  chiffon  taffeta,  made  comfort- 
ably and  well  by  one  of  the  best  dressmakers  in 
Brookline.  It  had  been  designed  and  cut  with  a 
view  to  suiting  the  age  and  quiet  personality  of  the 
mother  of  Farrell  Howard.  Mrs.  Dallas  regarded 
it  with  positive  affection.  She  had  always  liked  it. 
She  took  off  her  lacy  petticoat  and  dainty  net  under- 
waist,  and  with  firm  fingers  unclasped  her  fashionable 
brocade  stays  with  their  five  pairs  of  pink,  satin 
garters.  She  flung  them  furiously  into  the  darkest 
depths  of  her  closet.  Then  she  got  into  some  com- 
fortable corsets,  dainty  embroidered  corset  cover 
and  a  neat  blue  satin  petticoat  with  a  ruffled  flounce. 
She  had  always  had  handsome,  well-made  clothes  and 
fine  underwear,  and  there  was  little  to  be  ashamed 
of  in  the  piles  of  neatly-folded  snowy  articles  that 


YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

filled  the  lower  drawer  of  her  big  bureau.     Her  dress 
hooked  in  front  and  was  easily  adjusted. 

She  now  looked  at  herself  without  a  pang.  She 
felt  at  peace  and  ease  again.  A  bit  of  rare  lace  was 
fastened  about  her  neck  with  a  pin  Dallas  had  given 
her;  and  blue  slippers  with  low  heels,  with  good,  firm 
silk  stockings  to  match  them,  took  the  place  of  the 
flimsy  lace  hose  she  had  worn  earlier.  As  a  last 
touch  she  put  some  tea  roses  in  her  belt,  a  bunch  of 
them  filling  a  vase  on  her  table.  She  took  her  glasses 
from  their  case  and  pinned  them  on  her  breast.  She 
hadn't  dared  wear  them  there  for  many  months,  and 
her  weary  eyes  had  missed  them  sorely.  With  the 
curious  perversity  that  inanimate  objects  obtrude 
themselves  upon  our  most  sacred  moments,  her  knit- 
ting suddenly  flashed  over  her  confused  mind.  It 
took  possession  of  her,  and  she  hunted  almost  fever- 
ishly for  her  basket  and  her  favourite  needles. 
Finding  the  basket  she  hung  it  over  her  arm.  Then 
she  went  back  to  her  mirror  and  looked  at  herself 
again.  She  saw  a  sweet,  pretty  woman,  suitably 
and  becomingly  dressed,  with  a  delicate  high-bred 
face  and  soft,  greyish  hair,  a  woman  whom  she  felt 
was  still  attractive  and  desirable  despite  her  some- 
what old-fashioned  gowning,  and  whose  slender  figure 
lent  itself  easily  to  the  flowing  lines  of  the  immodish 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       323 

skirt.  Her  hands  and  wrists  were  round,  white  and 
beautiful,  her  ankles  slim  and  girlish,  and  her  skin, 
without  its  artificial  colour,  looked  clear  and  white. 
Mercilessly  as  she  scanned  her  face  in  the  mirror  she 
did  not  find  herself  plain  nor  lacking  in  charm.  She 
even  thought,  but  she  dared  not  believe  it,  that  she 
looked  quite  beautiful  as  she  stood  there.  That  ven- 
turesome thought,  however,  was  a  great  solace  to 
her  and  a  faint  flush  of  pleasure  rose  in  her  cheeks. 
Perhaps  Dal  would  not  be  so  dismayed  as  she  feared. 
She  picked  up  the  evening  papers  which  Metz  had 
laid  on  her  table  and  took  them  for  Dallas,  conjuring 
up  in  her  mind  a  restful  scene  in  the  garden  in  which 
Dallas  smoked  and  read  while  she  moved  her  knitting 
needles  to  and  fro  over  the  striped  blanket  so  long 
laid  aside. 

Just  before  she  went  out  of  her  room,  she  opened 
her  top  drawer  and  took  out  of  it  the  soft  Chudda 
shawl  which  had  belonged  to  her  mother  and  for 
which  she  had  longed  on  many  a  cool  evening.  Then 
she  went  bravely  down  the  stairs,  rapidly,  because 
she  no  longer  had  high  heels  and  tight  skirt  to  impede 
her.  She  moved  easily  and  gracefully.  The  tear- 
ful, haggard,  trembling  woman  who  had  gone  up  the 
stairs  twenty  minutes  earlier  had  been  transformed 
into  a  singularly  attractive  picture  of  charmingly 


YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

middle-aged  femininity.  A  beauty  which  had  been 
driven  away  by  strain,  hectic  effort  and  inevitable 
worry  had  returned. 

Meanwhile  Dallas  down  in  the  garden  had  not  been 
without  his  moments  of  readjustment.  The  discreet 
and  watchful  Metz,  who  had  been  left  to  assist  the 
home  servants  after  the  wedding,  came  quietly  down 
the  steps  shortly  after  Mrs.  Dallas  left.  He  found 
the  bridegroom  sitting  peacefully  under  the  trees, 
gazing  out  into  the  growing  shadows  of  the  oncom- 
ing twilight.  The  western  sky  was  still  flushed  with 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  but  the  shadows  were 
thickening  rapidly  through  the  trees. 

Metz  coughed  apologetically,  Dallas  being  too 
wrapped  in  his  thoughts  to  notice  the  butler's  light 
step.  "  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  shall  you  and  Mrs. 
Dallas  be  alone  for  dinner,  sir?  " 

Dallas  started  to  answer  but  was  checked  by  an 
irresistible  desire  to  sneeze.  He  stopped  a  moment 
in  the  clutch  of  the  impulse  and  then  ridded  himself 
of  it  heartily.  The  night  air  was  invading  a  head 
none  too  well  protected.  "  Quite  alone,  Metz,"  he 
finally  was  able  to  answer.  "  I  am  glad  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  thank  you  for  your  excellent  management 
and  service  to-day.  When  Mrs.  Brinton  told  me  she 
had  loaned  you  to  us,  I  knew  everything  would  be 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       325 

well  done.  It's  easy  to  make  you  more  material 
recompense,  but  I  wanted  to  express  my  appreciation 
personally."  He  sneezed  again. 

"  Shall  I  fetch  you  a  hat,  sir  ?  "  asked  M^tz  defer- 
entially. 

"  Oh,  no,  thanks !  " 

"  If  it's  not  too  delicate  a  question,  Metz,"  Dallas 
asked,  "why  don't  you  marry  Cook?" 

The  old  servant  halted  a  moment,  shuffled  his  feet 
a  little,  hemmed  and  hawed  and  then  answered: 
"  Well,  sir,  as  the  Frenchman  said,  when  asked  why 
he  didn't  marry  the  lady  he  was  courting,  where 
should  I  spend  my  evenings,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  a  problem  to  a  Frenchman," 
laughed  Dallas.  "  Is  she  young,  Metz  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Dallas,  sir  —  she's  youngish.  But 
wise,  sir,  uncommon  wise.  Cook  and  I  have  been  in 
Mrs.  Brinton's  service  for  ten  years,  sir.  We  met 
there,  sir,  and  never  a  harsh  word  has  passed  between 
us.  Of  course,  Cook  has  had  husbands,  sir.  I 
won't  deny  that,  and  for  that  matter,  I've  tasted  life 
myself,  sir,  in  my  day.  But  Cook  and  I  we  feel 
sure  we  are  kin  souls,  sir,  and  it  would  seem  a  pity 
to  spoil  it  all  by  getting  married.  Marriage  is  for 
our  betters,  sir.  It's  a  great  luxury,  not  a  necessity 
as  most  people  think,  sir.  And  Cook  and  I  —  we're 


326          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

quite  snug  and  friendly  about  the  kitchen,  sir.  I'm 
really  running  on,  sir.  Cook  always  reminds  me 
that  too  much  speech  is  one  of  my  faults." 

"  Cook  seems  to  have  a  remarkable  insight, 
Metz." 

"  She  has  indeed,  sir.  She  first  found  out  the 
Socialist  gentleman,  sir.  Pardon  my  repeating  hei 
words,  sir,  but  Cook  always  said  Mr.  Thomas  was 
too  persistent.  Not  knowing  when  you're  not  wanted 
is  a  great  lack  of  brains,  Cook  insisted,  and  when- 
ever Cook  heard  of  Mr.  Thomas'  presence  in  the 
house,  she  would  let  out  a  word  of  caution :  '  He's 
a  fad,  Metz,'  Cook  would  say  to  me.  '  And  fads 
melt  like  butter  in  the  sun.  Mark  me,' —  Cook 
always  ended  with  '  mark  me,  he'll  come  once  too 
often.'  And  he  did,  sir.  I  fear  for  Anna." 

But  Dallas  was  too  intimately  involved  in  his  own 
matrimonial  conjectures  to  worry  about  Thomas  and 
Aj&na. 

Metz,  seeing  his  preoccupation,  inquired,  "You 
leave  on  the  early  train,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  believe  BO,"  said  Dallas.  "  Have  my  man  look 
up  the  exact  time.  It's  somewhere  about  nine.  And 
Metz,  I'll  drink  port  to-night,  not  champagne. 
Have  Johnson  give  you  my  cap.  It's  in  the  jacket 
of  my  travelling  coat."  He  sneezed  again.  "  I 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       327 

think  I'm  catching  cold  here.  And  will  you  look 
in  the  writing  desk  in  my  room  for  my  steamer 
tickets?  Please  bring  them  with  the  cap." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  answered  Metz.  "  Cook 
says  — "  He  caught  himself  and  went  off  remark- 
ing, "  It's  a  beautiful  evening,  sir." 

Dallas  sat  quietly  for  a  moment  after  Metz  had 
gone  out.  The  lamps  in  the  back  of  the  house  had 
been  lighted  and  a  yellow  shaft  cut  through  the 
twilight  to  where  he  was  sitting.  Across  the  way 
the  illuminated  yellow  panes  of  another  old-fash- 
ioned New  England  house  twinkled  through  the 
gently  swaying  branches  of  the  trees.  He  drank 
heavily  of  the  peace  and  quiet  and  stretched  his  arms. 
The  natural  expansion  revealed  to  him  the  fact  that 
he  was  wearing  his  belt  too  tight. 

He  rose  from  his  chair  a  little  stiffly,  realising 
that  there  was  a  suspicious  twinge  or  two.  He  was 
glad  he  had  countermanded  the  order  for  cham- 
pagne at  dinner.  Loosening  the  belt  he  let  it  slip 
comfortably  by  three  holes  after  a  tug  which  showed 
how  hard  it  had  been  pressing.  He  then  discovered 
that  his  waist  coat  was  bothering  him  and  he  loosened 
a  few  buttons  of  that.  Feeling  great  relief  he  sighed 
blissfully. 


328          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

Metz  came  down  the  steps  with  the  cap  and  tickets 
and  bowed  himself  off  quickly. 

Putting  the  little  grey  travelling  cap  on  his  head 
he  looked  about  him  to  see  that  no  one  was  about 
and  then  seated  himself  again.  He  held  the  wallet 
of  tickets  in  the  shaft  of  light  coming  from  the 
house  and  attempted  to  go  over  the  routings  and  the 
express  company  letters  of  credit.  But  his  right 
shoe  began  to  bother  him.  Quite  abandoned  now  to 
the  idea  of  being  comfortable  he  undid  the  top  but- 
tons of  his  smart  patent  leather  shoes.  He  lifted  his 
foot  to  the  little  table  in  front  of  him  and  then 
leaned  back  easily  in  his  chair,  quite  satisfied  that 
all  merely  physical  matters  were  to  his  liking. 

But  he  found  that  the  print  on  the  tickets  was  a 
little  indistinct  in  the  none-too-strong  light  from  the 
window.  He  took  out  his  fashionably-made  pince-nez, 
put  them  on,  and  turned  again  to  his  scrutiny. 
They  were  useless  for  reading  and  he  put  them  back 
in  his  coat.  There  was  still  in  his  pocket  a  pair  of 
old-fashioned,  gold-framed  spectacles  which  he  Had 
bought  to  use  in  his  room.  He  looked  to  the  stairs 
carefully  for  he  did  not  want  his  wife  to  find  him 
in  them,  feeling  that  they  made  him  look  old.  Hear- 
ing nothing  he  fitted  them  to  his  eyes,  put  the  ear 
hooks  in  place  and  looked  again  at  his  tickets.  He 


"Mother!"    he    cried.      "My     own    sweet    mother    has 
come  back !" 


OLD  LACE  AND  LAVENDER       329 

shook  his  head  gloomily  over  them.  The  trip,  all 
of  a  sudden,  loomed  up  as  a  fearful  enterprise.  He 
put  the  wallet  solemnly  back  into  his  pocket  and 
gazed  for  a  moment  into  the  trees.  Then  he  slid 
comfortably  into  his  chair,  leaned  his  head  back 
and  —  began  to  nod.  He  started  up  two  or  three 
times  ineffectually,  but  finally,  with  a  contented  sigh, 
succumbed  to  drowsiness  and  dropped  into  a  little 
nap. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

PEACE    AT    LAST 

MBS.  DALIES  came  out  on  the  porch  in  her  comfort- 
able clothes.  She  feared  her  husband's  first  glance, 
not  knowing  what  he  would  think  of  the  change. 
Pausing  at  the  top  step  she  hardly  dared  look  at  him. 
What  would  be  his  expression?  With  an  effort  she 
turned  her  face  to  his  chair.  For  an  instant  she  was 
sure  that  he  had  gone  and  that  someone  else  had 
taken  his  place.  Surely  this  oldish  looking  man 
with  the  spectacles  and  little  cap  napping  away  in 
her  garden  was  not  her  dapper  Dal!  His  head 
rested  against  the  back  of  his  chair,  his  hands  lay 
loosely  on  his  knees,  in  one  the  case  of  his  glasses 
and  in  the  other  the  steamship  tickets.  She  heard 
him  breathe  a  little  heavily.  She  tip-toed  forward 
and  looked  him  over  carefully.  His  spectacles  still 
rested  on  his  nose,  his  little  cap  was  firmly  pulled  on 
his  head.  Even  the  unbuttoned  shoe  did  not  escape 
her. 

He  awoke  with  a  start  and  for  a  moment  was  not 
sure  where  he  was.     Then  he  caught  sight  of  her 

and  his  eyes  lighted. 

330 


PEACE  AT  LAST  331 

"  Oh,  Dal,  you  darling ! "  she  cried.  "  You 
actually  look  older  than  I."  She  advanced  towards 
him. 

He  stood  up  to  look  at  her  more  closely.  He 
smiled  happily.  "  What  were  you  worrying 
about  ? "  he  asked.  "  You  don't  look  old  at  all, 
Ellie.  Why,  you  look  perfectly  beautiful." 

She  put  down  her  basket  and  went  to  him.  He 
placed  his  arms  about  her  and  held  her  close.  She 
clung  to  him  tightly.  "  Are  you  really  willing  to 
have  me  —  just  me,  and  let  me  grow  old  in  peace  — 
you  blessed  Dal?" 

He  beamed  on  her.  "  Do  you  know  I  like  you 
much  better  this  way.  It's  so  comfy." 

She  drew  away  suddenly  with  another  chill.  She 
remembered  the  trip.  "  But,  oh,  Dal,  I  forgot.  I 
can't  —  I  can't  take  this  long,  long  journey.  I 
would  rather  die." 

"  You  mean  the  trip  ?  Our  honeymoon  ? "  he 
counterfeited  surprise. 

She  nodded,  tearful  again. 

"  The  wonderful  world  journey?  You  don't  want 
to  go,  Ellie?" 

Turning  away  from  him  she  shook  her  head. 

"You  want  to  back  out?"  he  continued. 

She  raised  and  lowered  her  head  affirmatively. 


332          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  You  can't  mean  it  —  you  said  it  was  a  life 
dream.  Come  here,  Ellie  —  I  adore  you.  I 
wouldn't  go  for  the  world.  I've  hated  that  trip  for 
weeks.  Let's  stay  here  in  the  garden  instead." 

Mrs.  Dallas,  hardly  believing  her  ears,  flew  back  to 
him  in  a  rapture  of  joy.  "In  Brookline?  You 
mean  it?  You  didn't  want  to  go  either?  You  didn't 
feel  up  to  it  ?  Honestly  ?  Dal,  kiss  me  —  kiss  me 
again !  There  was  never  anyone  like  you." 

For  a  long  moment  they  held  tenderly  each  to  the 
other.  Then  Dallas  drew  the  chairs  together  and 
put  a  pillow  in  each.  He  smilingly  placed  his  wife  in 
one  and  he  took  the  other.  She  put  her  basket  be- 
side her  and  picked  up  her  knitting,  slipping  the 
evening  paper  into  his  lap.  Lighting  his  cigar,  he 
leaned  back  in  great  content. 

"  Dal !  "  she  said. 

"  Ellie ! " 

"  I  love  you." 

"  And  I  adore  you.     I  am  so  comfortable  here." 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  get  my  knitting  back,"  she  con- 
fessed. "  It's  like  a  lost  child." 

As  they  sat  there  serene  and  at  peace  with  them- 
selves and  the  world,  Farrell  came  wearily  in  at  the 
garden  gate.  He  started  as  he  saw  them,  rubbed  his 
eyes  to  make  sure  that  he  was  seeing  aright  and  then 


PEACE  AT  LAST  333 

dashed  forward,  falling  on  his  knees  before  his 
mother  and  grasping  her  hands.  She  had  never  seen 
him  so  moved  or  so  affectionate.  Her  heart  went  out 
to  him. 

"  Mother !  "  he  cried.  "  My  own  sweet  mother  has 
come  back.  How  lovely  you  look,  Mother.  And  your 
dear  hair  is  just  like  it  used  to  be.  And  you  won't 
go  away  again,  will  you,  Mother?  " 

"  No,  dear,"  she  promised  patting  him  gently. 
"  I'm  through  junketing  about.  I'm  home." 

"  It's  too  good  to  be  true ! "  he  exclaimed  rising 
and  going  to  Dallas  who  stood  to  greet  him. 

"  Father !  "  Farrell  exploded,  thrusting  out  his 
hand. 

"  My  son !  "  Dallas  exclaimed  sincerely,  offering  his 
hand  to  seal  the  bargain.  "  We  are  not  going  away, 
Farrell,  we've  reached  years  of  discretion." 

"  Oh,  how  I  shall  enjoy  my  fishing  now,"  the 
younger  man  went  on.  "  I'll  be  gone  three  days. 
And  I  'm  so  glad  that  awful  trip  is  given  up.  I  am 
going  to  have  them  carry  those  trunks  right  back 
again  into  the  house.  They  make  me  shiver." 

He  kissed  his  mother  fondly,  shook  hands  again 
with  Dallas  and  then  announced ;  "  I'm  going  in  to 
Boston  to  spend  the  night,  Mother,  to  leave  you  and 


334          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Mr. —  er  —  father  to  spend  your  honeymoon  in 
peace." 

Mrs.  Dallas  put  down  her  knitting  and  looked  about 
her  with  unutterable  happiness  in  her  eyes  and  he 
smoked  with  a  new  relish.  Life  was  right  again. 
From  across  the  way  there  came  the  music  of  some 
old  ballad  sung  by  a  clear  girl's  voice  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  a  piano. 

"  Listen,  dear,"  Dallas  said.  "  Isn't  that  a  beau- 
tiful air?  " 

Through  the  still  evening  air  came  the  words : 

"  When  we  are  old  and  grey,  love, 
When  we  are  old  and  grey, 
When  at  last  'tis  all,  all  over 
The  turmoil  of  the  day.  .  .  . 
The  turmoil  of  the  day, 
In  the  still  soft  hours  of  even, 
In  our  life's  fair  twilight  time.  .  .  . 
We'll  look  upon  the  morn,  love, 
Upon  our  early  prime: 
'Thank  God  for  all  the  sweet  days' 
We'll  whisper  while  we  may, 
When  we  are  old  and  grey,  love. 
When  we  are  old  and  grey, 
When  we  were  young  and  gay,  love, 
When  we  were  young  and  gay.  .  .  . 
When  distant  seemed  December 
And  all  was  Golden  May  .  .  . 
Amid  our  life's  hard  turmoil, 
Our  true  love  made  us  brave  .  .  . 
We  thought  not  of  to-morrow, 


PEACE  AT  LAST  335 

We  reck'd  not  of  the  grave; 

So  far  seemed  life's  dim  twilight, 

So  far  the  close  of  day.  .  .  . 

When  we  were  young  and  gay,  love, 

When  we  were  young  and  gay. 

Now  we  are  old  and  grey,  love, 
Now  we  are  old  and  grey, 
The   nighttide   shadows   gather, 
We  have  not  time  to  stay; 
The  last  sere  leaves  have  fallen, 
The  bare,  bleak  branches  bend. 
Set  your  dear  hands  in  mind,  love, 
Thus,  thus  we'll  wait  the  end.  .  .  . 
'Thank  God  for  all  the  gladness,' 
In  peaceful  hope  we'll  say.  .  .  . 
When  we  are  old  and  grey,  love, 
When  we  are  old  and  grey." 

The  singing  died  away  leaving  an  aftermath  of 
subtle  harmony  which  held  like  the  odour  of  a  fra- 
grant flower.  The  two,  who  had  not  moved  during 
the  singing,  now  leaned  closer  to  each  other.  She 
looked  up  from  her  work. 

"  Dal,  dear,"  she  said,  gently,  and  as  if  she  was 
trespassing  on  a  spell. 

"  Yes,  sweetheart?  "  he  turned  to  her. 

"  Dal,  I  love  you !  " 

"  Ellie,  I  adore  you !  " 

"  All  the  joys  are  not  left  for  youth  alone,"  he 
said  looking  happily  at  her. 


336          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

"  God  bless  them !  "  she  returned. 

"  Some  are  left  over."  He  laughed  quizzically  and 
then  touched  her  with  devout  affection.  "  And  we 
are  not  too  old,"  he  added. 

"  No,"  she  said  with  quaint  quickness,  "  we  are 
just  a  little  old,  Dal!  And  we  don't  care." 

"  I  did  not  know  such  happiness  was  in  the  world," 
he  breathed  finally.  He  reached  for  her  hand. 

"  Nor  I,"  she  answered,  returning  his  pressure. 
She  leaned  over  and  placed  her  head  against  his 
shoulder.  His  arm  crept  around  and  held  her  closer 
to  him. 

They  sat  there  for  a  long  while  in  marvellous 
peace  and  content,  scarcely  moving  for  fear  they 
would  frighten  away  the  great  new  joy  which  had 
come  into  their  lives.  The  last  bit  of  pale  sky  yielded 
to  night  and  her  stars,  and  the  wind  died  away. 

"  It's  wonderful  to  be"  old,"  he  said  with  a  new  in- 
sight into  life. 

"  Wonderful !  "  she  echoed. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

FOUR    LETTERS 
FROM    MARGARET    BRINTON    TO    ELEANOR    DALLAS 

BAR   HARBOR,   July   1. 
Dearest  Ellie: 

Your  last  letter  was  such  a  relief  to  me.  I  had  felt 
so  nervous  and  troubled  about  you,  and  I  never  hated 
to  do  anything  so  much  in  my  life  as  I  did  to  go  away 
and  leave  you  alone  with  Dal.  I  knew  you  hated  it, 
but  what  else  could  I  do?  I  had  hysterics  after  I 
got  home  that  night.  Jack  and  Lucy  had  such  a 
time  getting  me  quiet  that  they  sent  for  Dr.  Bar- 
ton. I  wonder  if  you  met  him  while  you  were  here? 
He  is  so  attractive  and  so  personal.  I  love  a  personal 
doctor,  who  treats  you  as  if  you  were  his  most  in- 
teresting patient.  Dr.  Barton  was  a  perfect  dear  to 
me.  He  sat  and  stroked  my  hands,  and  talked  to 
me,  and  gave  me  a  bromide,  holding  my  head  on  his 
shoulder  and  soothing  me,  for  I  was  so  weak  I 
couldn't  sit  up.  John  was  rather  cross  about  my 

letting  him  hold  my  hands,  but  of  course  it's  quite 

337 


338          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

another  matter  with  a  doctor.  But  to  go  back  to 
you.  I  knew  some  awful  thing  had  happened  to  you, 
and  I  was  awake  for  hours  that  night.  I  even  asked 
Lucy  what  she  thought  it  was,  and  she  said  perhaps 
you  didn't  like  Dal  to  know  you  wore  false  hair,  but 
I  was  sure  it  wasn't  that.  So  when  you  wrote  me 
that  it  was  all  right  and  that  you  and  Dal  under- 
stood each  other  as  you  never  had  before,  I  was  so 
relieved.  Dal  is  a  dear,  Ellie,  and  so  considerate. 
Very  few  men  would  have  forgiven  you  that  Amos 
episode,  as  he  did.  John  is  much  more  jealous. 
That's  one  reason  I'm  afraid  to  marry  him ;  perhaps 
I  might  smile  at  someone  else  and  he  wouldn't  under- 
stand it.  And  when  I  saw  your  face  on  your  wed- 
ding day  —  I  was  sure  you  knew  you  were  making  a 
mistake,  and  I  don't  intend  to  put  myself  in  any  such 
position.  John  is  delightful  as  a  sweetheart,  but  I 
wonder  if  I'd  like  any  man,  now,  as  a  husband.  It 
means  no  more  cold  cream  or  crimps,  no  more  kid 
gloves  at  night  to  soften  one's  hands,  and  worst  of  all, 
no  more  nerves !  One  must  be  well  dressed,  perfumed, 
powdered,  smiling  and  serene  in  these  advanced  days. 
And  I  wonder  if  I  could.  Still  I  wouldn't  let  any 
other  woman  get  John.  I'm  afraid  of  that,  too. 
And  Nettie  Brent  has  her  eye  on  him  or  Michael. 
Not  that  I  think  either  of  them  would,  but  she's  per- 


FOUR  LETTERS  339 

sistent  and  very  pretty,  and  ten  years  younger  than  I. 
Do  you  think  he'll  get  tired  of  being  put  off,  Ellie? 
Dai's  getting  married  has  made  John  very  insistent. 
Shall  I  marry  him?  For  heaven's  sake,  advise  me, 
and  tell  me,  dear,  what  was  the  matter  with  you  on 
your  wedding  day?  And  what  was  the  matter  with 
Dal?  Don't  fail  to  tell  me,  I'm  dying  to  know.  I'm 
so  glad  you're  happy  again,  for  it  would  make  me  feel 
as  if  I  were  partly  to  blame  if  you  weren't,  for  of 
course  I  introduced  you  two.  But,  Ellie,  don't  keep 
Dal  in  Brookline  too  long  or  he'll  hate  it.  Remember 
his  heart  is  here  in  the  city,  and  you  must  not  try 
to  make  him  over.  Forgive  me  for  that,  darling,  but 
I  just  had  to  say  it.  Shall  I  marry  John,  Ellie? 
And  are  you  really  glad  you  have  Dal?  Do,  do  tell 
me!  I'm  so  upset  and  uncertain.  Of  course  I 
know  Jack  pretty  well,  still  who  knows  any  man  until 
one  marries  him,  though  ten  years  is  a  long  time.  I 
wish  I  could  make  up  my  mind.  Why  don't  you  and 
Dal  come  up  here  for  a  week;  John  arrives  in  a  day 
or  two,  and  I  know  he'll  want  an  answer.  Some- 
times I  wish  I  had  married  him  five  years  ago.  Give 
Dal  my  love  and  keep  a  lot  for  your  dear  self.  How 
is  Farrell  ?  Poor  boy,  I  finally  understood  him,  and  I 
almost  like  him.  Michael  is  going  to  the  Adirondacks. 
Dear  creature,  I  never  could  have  refused  Michael. 


340          YEARS    OF   DISCRETION 

Didn't  you  ever  waver  between  them?  Oh,  Ellie,  I'm 
dying  to  see  you,  and  I  do  wish  you  were  here  to  ad- 
vise me.  I  really  suppose  I  shall  end  by  marrying 
John  for  fear  someone  else  will.  Write  me,  dear, 
and  do  miss  me  a  little  even  if  you  have  Dal  — 

Your    devoted 

PEG. 

P.  S.  If  I  do  decide  to  say  yes  to  John  what 
would  you  wear  if  you  were  me  ?  What  about  apricot 
charmeuse,  or  do  you  think  white  cloth  would  be 
smarter?  It  would  be  early  fall,  you  see.  I  think 
about  September  fifteenth,  so  don't  make  any  engage- 
ments for  that  week. 

PEG. 

CHRISTOPHER  DALLAS  TO  JOHN  STRONG 

BROOKIJNE^  Mass.,  July  2. 
Good  old  Jack: 

I  am  a  wretch.  I  promised  to  write  you  immedi- 
ately to  let  you  know  how  we  were,  but  one  beautiful 
day  after  another  has  gone  so  quickly  that  I've  lost 
all  sense  of  time.  Hours  mean  nothing  to  us.  For 
the  first  time  in  my  life  I  am  not  the  slave  of  a  clock. 
And  when  I  think  of  that  awful  trip  we  might  have 
taken,  I  am  so  thankful !  "  Ah,  ha,"  I  hear  you 


FOUR  LETTERS  341 

chuckling,  "  Dal  is  getting  old ! "  It  isn't  that, 
Jack.  For  the  first  time  I've  found  real  true  com- 
fort and  content.  Always  I've  flown  from  boredom, 
not  knowing  that  it  was  something  attached  to  my 
way  of  living  like  a  shadow.  Jack,  get  married! 
You  will  never  know  what  happiness  is  until  you  do. 
I've  tried  the  other  thing  and  I  don't  need  to  tell  you, 
as  a  man,  that  it  doesn't  work.  But  here  we  are 
without  a  secret  or  a  heartache  between  us.  Ellie 
understands  me,  Jack.  I  think  she  is  the  only  woman 
who  ever  did.  She  doesn't  exact  high  pressure  of 
me ;  she  knows  all  the  old  dog's  ingrown  ways. 

She  is  perfectly  willing  that  I  should  be  fifty-two 
years  of  age  and  she  very  gracefully  makes  me  feel 
that  she  is  just  as  old  as  I  am,  though  I  know  well 
enough  she  isn't.  Now  don't  say  that  old  bromide: 
"  A  man  is  as  old  as  he  feels."  I  know  better,  he  is 
just  as  old  as  he  is. 

I  feel  really  rested  and  comfortable.  Ellie  lures 
me  into  all  sorts  of  little  after-dinner  naps  and  easy 
hours.  I  should  grow  fat  if  it  wasn't  for  Farrell, 
who  has  been  introducing  me  to  the  golf  links  of 
Boston  and  vicinity.  He  has  tried  me  out  now  on 
half  a  dozen  different  courses.  And  would  you  be- 
lieve it?  The  beggar  had  the  audacity  to  beat  me 
out  yesterday  after  we  had  carried  the  match  three 


342          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

extra  holes.  Once  you  know  the  boy  he  is  very 
likable.  To  make  me  feel  more  comfortable  he  takes 
a  cocktail  and  high  ball  quite  regularly  at  dinner  and 
now  he  proposes  to  whisk  me  off  for  a  two  days* 
cruise. 

I  don't  think  we  shall  stay  here  much  longer.  I've 
had  my  motor  sent  up  and  we  have  become  so  fasci- 
nated with  our  little,  impromptu  tours  on  these  won- 
derful Massachusetts  roads  that  Ellie  is  quite  in  the 
mood  now  for  a  longer  j  ourney.  I  think  we  shall  try 
the  loop  out  through  the  Berkshires,  then  up  to  the 
White  and  Green  Mountains  and  on  to  Maine,  where 
Margaret  is  staying.  In  the  fall  we  are  going  back 
to  New  York  either  to  take  an  apartment  or  house. 
Ellie  says  she  doesn't  want  me  to  see  too  much  of 
her  and  that  she  fears  I  will  if  we  remain  too  long  in 
this  blissful  Eden.  God!  John!  You  should  see 
the  garden  now !  I'm  fascinated  by  it  and  I  must 
have  one  like  it  near  New  York. 

Now,  Jack,  don't  let  Margaret  put  you  off  too 
long.  You  are  both  making  a  mistake  by  waiting. 
And,  Jack,  don't  go  too  strong  on  the  emotional  side 
of  the  thing.  Try  a  new  tack,  tell  her  you  want  to 
settle  down  and  have  a  little  real  peace.  Pjerhaps 
that's  what  she  wants.  The  harder  you  woo  a  mid- 
dle-aged woman  the  more  firmly  she  becomes  con- 


FOUR  LETTERS  343 

vinced  that  all  men  should  have  young  wives.  If  you 
can  make  her  feel  that  she  will  be  as  care-free  after 
marriage  as  she  is  before  it,  all  will  be  much  easier 
for  you. 

Jack,  did  you  ever  see  a  woman  knit  or  crochet? 
I  haven't  since  I  was  a  boy,  until  now.  It's  a  won- 
derfully restful  sight.  Are  you  going  to  be  at  Bar 
Harbor  about  the  fifteenth?  Can't  we  all  get  together 
then?  It  will  be  good  to  see  you  again.  Ellie  tells 
me  to  send  "  dear  John  Strong "  her  love.  Good 
luck  to  you,  dear  Jack,  and  have  a  wise  heart  if  not 
a  brave  one  and  the  widow  will  be  yours ! 

DAL. 

JOHN  STRONG  TO  CHRISTOPHER  DALLAS 

NEW  YORK,  July  6. 
Dear  Dal: 

Benedict  the  married  man,  eh?  Bless  you  both! 
No  one  is  more  pleased  than  I  am.  Even  in  the 
midst  of  that  wedding  gloom  I  felt  hopeful.  I'm  a 
great  believer  in  love,  you  know,  and  I  realised  a  wed- 
ding is  enough  to  disconcert  anyone.  It's  like  a 
grief  that  has  to  be  lived  through.  Margaret  was 
fearfully  upset  after  she  got  home,  and  had  an  attack 
of  nerves,  a  very  unusual  thing  for  her.  She  called 


344          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

in  the  famous  Beauty  Barton,  who  gave  her  some 
sort  of  a  quieter  and  held  onto  her  hands.  She  would 
have  none  of  me  and  dismissed  me  finally.  I  went 
because  I  knew  she  didn't  mean  it,  and  she  called  me 
up  the  next  morning  to  say  so.  I  salute  your  superior 
knowledge  of  the  fair  sex  and  I  will  heed  your  advice. 
I  will  cease  being  ardent  and  play  Old  Dog  Tray. 
Perhaps  she  is  afraid.  I  am  not  sure  I  don't  feel  a 
bit  that  way  myself.  But  I  will  advocate  peace  and 
Darby  and  Joan.  I  may  really  arrive  somewhere. 
I've  never  tried  it  at  all  events,  and  my  other  method 
has  been  going  for  ten  years.  Long  enough,  in  all 
conscience!  Of  course,  I've  seen  women  knit  and 
crochet.  Where  do  you  suppose  I  was  brought  up? 
But  Margaret  doesn't  know  how  to  do  either.  I  asked 
her.  However,  we  both  play  cribbage  and  that  is  a 
favourite  refuge  of  the  married.  Dear  old  chap, 
I'm  going  to  make  Margaret  marry  me !  I  envy  you 
your  peace  and  your  home  and  your  wife.  Ellie  is 
a  charmer,  I  know  that,  and  she  has  left  a  mark  on 
poor  Michael  that  he  won't  lose  for  many  a  day.  I 
am  consumed  with  joy  over  your  newly  found  paternal 
interest.  I  wish  I  could  see  you  treading  the  green 
with  Farrell.  And  the  picture  of  that  model  soul 
being  led  astray  enough  to  consume  a  highball  and 
cocktail  nightly,  has  been  engraved  on  my  brain.  I 


FOUR  LETTERS  345 

don't  doubt  he  will  tango  before  he's  done.  I  fully 
expect  to  drop  into  some  Broadway  cafe  and  see  him 
entertaining  a  soubrette  and  liking  it.  Of  course, 
I'll  be  in  Bar  Harbor.  Isn't  Margaret  there?  And 
when  she's  out  of  town  all  the  harmony  becomes  dis- 
cord. I  go  a  lame,  halting  gait  without  her.  You 
just  wait!  I'm  going  to  win  that  elusive  lady  of 
mine,  and  before  the  ducks  fly  again  at  that.  I  say, 
Dal,  you're  welcome  to  the  garden.  It  got  on  my 
nerves.  Give  me  the  Ritz  for  a  pleasant  afternoon. 
And  Margaret's  drawing-room  has  always  been  a 
refuge  in  time  of  need.  I  don't  want  any  old  gar- 
dens in  mine.  I'm  leaving  for  Bar  Harbor  to-mor- 
row and  I  shall  insist  upon  being  heard.  You  lucky 
dog,  you're  through  with  the  hard  part  of  it;  but 
you've  got  to  stand  by  me.  We'll  try  a  wedding  in 
town,  perhaps  it  will  be  gayer.  My  love  to  Ellie, 
whom  I  secretly  adore,  only  I'm  afraid  you  and 
Margaret  might  be  jealous  if  I  told  you  how  much. 
Give  my  reverential  regards  to  that  estimable  Farrell 
already  being  influenced  by  your  worldly  example. 
He  did  run  your  wedding  rather  well,  though;  he's 
no  fool  about  practical  things.  By  the  way,  I 
actually  tried  to  make  Margaret  jealous  and  suc- 
ceeded. I  lunched  Mrs.  Jimmy  Brent  at  the  Ritz, 
when  I  knew  Margaret  was  to  be  there  with  some 


346          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

people  I  don't  like.  To  say  that  it  made  a  sensation 
is  mild.  Margaret,  that  night,  almost  said  "  yes  " 
to  me.  And  she  didn't  like  my  doing  it  one  little  bit. 
I've  been  full  of  remorse,  though.  It  was  rotten  of 
me.  Don't  tell  Margaret  I  told  you.  My  best 
always,  and  wish  me  luck. 

As  ever,  JOHN. 

FROM  ELEANOR  DALLAS  TO  MARGARET  BRINTON 

BROOKLINE,  July  9th. 
Peg,  Dear: 

Your  warm  hearted,  loving  letter  was  such  a 
pleasure  to  me.  There's  no  one  like  you,  and  I  am 
a  very  lucky  creature  to  have  such  a  friend. 

There  are  so  many  things  to  tell  you  that  I  hardly 
know  where  to  begin  them,  but  if  I  forget  any  of 
them  now,  I'll  remember  them  when  I  see  you;  for 
Dal  and  I  are  going  to  join  you  next  week,  and  it 
will  be  so  delightful  to  see  you  and  John  again. 

I  had  a  quiet  little  smile  over  your  state  of  mind. 
Of  course,  you're  to  marry  John.  As  if  anyone 
could  really  stop  you.  And  it's  a  pity  you  didn't 
do  it  years  ago.  Don't  worry  over  it,  dear.  I  did 
that  and  after  all  I  am  wonderfully,  ideally  happy. 
Just  shut  your  eyes  and  ears  to  the  little  ghosts 
that  troop  up  to  frighten  you;  because  they'll  soon 


FOUR  LETTERS  347 

fade  away  when  you  refuse  to  notice  them.  I  want 
you  to  be  as  happy  as  I  am,  and  both  Dal  and  I 
think  John  is  the  one  man  in  the  world  for  you. 
Give  in,  dear.  It's  not  easy,  but  you'll  never  be 
sorry.  The  wedding  was  awful !  I  can't  see  now  how 
we  ever  got  through  it;  but  that  was  just  because 
Dal  and  I  were  pretending;  we  both  felt  afraid  to 
be  just  ourselves.  It  wasn't  exactly  false  hair,  Peg, 
but  it  was  something  very  much  like  it.  But  that's 
all  over,  thank  heaven,  and  we've  had  our  say,  and 
we  love  each  other  more  than  ever.  Do  you  know, 
Peg,  I  believe  we  have  found  the  happy  medium !  A 
great  discovery.  In  New  York  I  went  to  one  extreme 
and  in  Brookline  to  another;  now  I've  found  an  in- 
between  that  is  what  I've  always  longed  for,  and  I 
shall  never  let  it  go  again. 

You  see,  dear,  I'm  not  young,  and  neither  is  Dal, 
and  neither  are  you  or  John.  Let's  face  that  fact 
cheerfully.  What  earthly  difference  does  it  make ; 
we  are  all  sensible  people;  and  you  and  I  are  very 
blessed  to  have  two  splendid  men  like  John  and  Dal 
to  care  for  us. 

Dal  and  I  struggle  no  longer;  we  are  just  happy 
and  peaceful.  I  took  all  of  my  gowns  into  Boston 
to  an  excellent  dressmaker  and  had  her  change  and 
alter  them  until  they  were  both  suitable  and  comfort- 


848          YEARS    OF    DISCRETION 

able.  They  look  just  as  pretty  and  Dal  says  I  look 
better  in  them.  I've  taken  off  the  false  hair;  but  I 
have  my  own  hair  waved  and  I've  found  a  new  way 
of  wearing  it  that  I  know  you'll  like.  I'm  not  a 
frump,  Peg;  but  I've  ceased  being  an  idiot.  You 
won't  be  ashamed  of  me  even  at  Bar  Harbor,  because 
I  have  a  lot  of  lovely  things  in  which  I  can  walk  and 
sit  and  breathe. 

I  wish  I  could  have  seen  you  in  hysterics !  And 
with  Dr.  Barton  soothing  you.  No  wonder  poor 
John  didn't  like  it. 

The  last  time  I  was  in  Boston  I  went  into  Anna's 
shop,  and  had  a  manicure.  Anna  was  overjoyed  to 
see  me.  She  looked  well,  but  chastened,  and  she  said 
a  wonderful  thing  about  Amos.  I  asked  her  how  he 
was,  and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  replied: 
"  He  is  always  well  and  he  is  good  to  me,  but  he  is  a 
little  crazy,  as  Madame  knows."  Incidentally  I  do 
think  Nettie  Brent  has  her  eye  on  John,  and  not 
Michael;  and  as  you  say,  she  is  very  pretty.  So 
don't  wait  too  long,  dearest,  and  remember  John  has 
served  more  than  seven  years ! 

Farrell  was  never  so  nice;  and  he  has  grown  so 
attached  to  Dal  that  he  is  actually  trying  to  take 
him  away  from  me  for  three  days.  He  told  me,  not 
long  ago,  that  he  felt  he  had  too  narrow  a  view  of 


FOUR  LETTERS  349 

life,  and  he  intended  to  broaden  it ;  and  he  has  bought 
a  car  of  his  own,  and  now  takes  a  cocktail  with  us 
regularly.  We're  going  to  spend  half  the  year  in 
New  York,  be  here  while  the  garden  is  at  its  best, 
and  drift  about  when  we  feel  inclined.  I'll  find  a 
nice  housekeeper  or  wife  for  Farrell  before  I'm 
through.  I'd  love  an  apricot  charmeuse  for  you, 
Peg,  and  I'll  give  you  some  topaz  to  wear  with  it. 
But  don't  delay.  We'll  expect  to  give  up  the  second 
week  in  September  to  marrying  you  and  John.  I 
often  think  of  Michael !  He's  the  only  drop  of  regret 
in  my  cup.  I  wasn't  fair  to  him,  and  he's  such  a 
dear !  It  wouldn't  be  hard  to  love  Michael ;  only  I 
couldn't  keep  it  up.  Oh,  Peg,  Dal  is  so  good  to  me, 
and  he  never  looked  so  well.  I  know  he  is  happy. 
And  life  is  beautiful.  I'm  not  one  scrap  afraid  to 
get  old  now.  Wait  until  you  can  say  that. 

We'll  see  you  next  week.  I'll  write  later  what  day. 
And  I  want  to  find  you  engaged  when  we  reach  there. 
Never  mind  what  was  the  matter  the  day  I  was  mar- 
ried. It's  past  and  gone.  And  I'm  more  in  love 
than  ever.  My  best  love  to  you,  and  Dai's,  too. 

Your  ELLIE. 

THE   END 


m  •""  "MI  inn  inn  iiiiiiiui  inn  111  mi 

A     000  040  455     8 


